


Oath of Convenience

by Archer85



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Marriage of Convenience, Rating for later chapters, canon-divergent, canon-divergent starting in season 4
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2020-10-05 03:23:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 52,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20482046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archer85/pseuds/Archer85
Summary: While on trial for murdering King Joffrey, Tyrion Lannister takes the plea-bargain Tywin offers, and as a result, Jaime is forced to leave the King's Guard, marry, and set up house at Casterly Rock. To mollify Cersei, Jaime offers to take the ugliest high-born bride he can find, who also happens to be his friend, Brienne of Tarth. Brienne eventually agrees to the marriage, but refuses to share Jaime's bed while he remains Cersei's lover. Jaime agrees to this arrangement at first, but soon finds it more unbearable than he ever imagined.





	1. The Bargain

**Author's Note:**

> Most of this fic is canon-compliant up until Tyrion's trial. However, in the timeline of this fic, Jaime has not yet given Brienne Oathkeeper and sent her off to find the Stark girls, so she is still in King's Landing at the start. (That will all be addressed extensively in the fic; it's just happening in a different order and for a slightly different reason here)

Despite being two arm-lengths away from his brother, Jaime could barely hear what he was saying. There was a ringing in his ears that refused to quiet. He had been in situations far more deadly and dangerous than this one, but he was fairly certain he had never been in a situation nearly this _tense_. 

Tyrion was on trial for murdering his nephew, the (former) King. Their father presided over the trial and was – despite his faux air of impartiality – doing his best to see Tyrion found guilty. As was Cersei, who was convinced beyond reason Tyrion had actually done it. Jaime, for his part, was just as sure Tyrion had _not_ done it. And their father did not seem to care about the truth one way or the other.

What he cared about was what he had always cared about – how he could turn this nightmare of a situation to his own advantage. Tywin Lannister was a master of this, and always had been. But in Jaime’s estimation, he had outdone himself this time around. 

Although Jaime was still struggling to follow the conversation word-for-word, he picked up just enough to assure himself that Tyrion was doing what they had agreed to – confessing and appealing for mercy. The mercy was to come in the form of a sentence to the Night’s Watch, where Tyrion would reside forevermore, out of sight and lost to the family line. 

In exchange for this, Jaime had vowed to leave the King’s Guard, marry a suitable woman, and set up house at Casterly Rock. His feelings about that idea were complicated, and mostly negative. However, those feelings were insignificant to the immense relief he felt at having his brother’s life spared...which of course, is why he agreed to it. 

Jaime heard, as if from very far away, his father order him to escort Tyrion to his chambers where he would be kept on house arrest until they could arrange transport up to The Wall. Jaime did as instructed while avoiding Cersei’s eyeline like the plague. He could feel the anger radiating off her and was in no mood to contend with it right now. 

All the more so because her anger was about to get worse, and he wanted to avoid that issue – mentally and logistically – for as long as he could. Jaime and Tyrion walked in silence for a while, each letting their heartbeats return to something approaching normal. Eventually Tyrion broke the silence. 

“So, what did you promise father, in exchange for my life?” 

“I’m to marry a suitable woman, take my place at Casterly Rock and father children who will carry on the family name.” 

Tyrion gave an unusually long pause before replying. 

“She is going to be furious at you for this.” 

“I know.” 

Jaime desperately wanted to follow it up with “and I don’t care.” But it would have been a bald-faced lie that Tyrion would have seen right through. 

Jaime cared about how Cersei felt. But he cared about Tyrion’s life more. And that was how it should be. He knew regret the way he knew an old friend, and he was confident as he ushered his brother into his old quarters, promised to bring him some wine, and locked the door behind him, that this choice would not end up on his list of regrets.

~*~

_“HOW COULD YOU?!”_

Jaime ducked just in time, but he still felt tiny shards of the glass Cersei had thrown at him sprinkle along the back of his head as it shattered against the wall behind him. 

Jaime strode up to her, grabbed the center-piece bowl she had claimed as her next weapon, tossed it out of reach and then grabbed her firmly with his one good hand while holding her in place with the other.

“I know you are distraught, and I understand. Joffrey’s death was horrible and I want punish whoever did it just as much as you do. But _it wasn’t Tyrion!_ I know you don’t want to believe that, but it’s true. He didn’t do it and I cannot let my brother die for a crime he didn’t commit.” 

“So, once again, father gets what he wants – his preferred heir back as his heir. Tyrion gets his life, when what he _should_ get is his head on a spike, and you get to leave the King’s Guard with your silly sense of honor intact.” 

Jaime thought for a split second about refuting that it was silly, but decided that hill was not worth dying on at this precise moment. 

“Believe me, father is the only one getting a good deal here. The rest of us will be just as miserable as you. Tyrion is going to a place with no women, shit wine, and even shittier weather _forever_. And I’m going to have to spend the rest of my life married to some cow I could not care less about because I am forbidden from having the one woman I truly want.”

Jaime leaned in to kiss her, but she ducked away from him, a look of disgust on her face.

“If you really wanted me, you would have let Tyrion hang.” 

“Your happiness is not more important than his life!” 

“It is when he murders our son!”

“Cersei, he’s innocent and it’s _done_. There’s nothing more to fight about.” 

Cersei seemed briefly taken aback by the finality of his words but recovered herself quickly. 

“Well then, what should we talk about instead? Would you like to trade opinions on who would make the best bride for you? Maybe share some thoughts on the wedding décor?”

“Stop.” 

Cersei wandered over to the side table that had a full wine pitcher and several still-intact goblets. She poured herself a drink as she mused, “No doubt one of the Frey girls would make a good wife for you. Nice strategic match that would help father keep more of a firm grip on the North. Or better yet, if we find Sansa Stark, her marriage to Tyrion will no doubt be annulled and that would give father an even better claim to the North. You have to admit, she’s a pretty little thing.”

“Cersei stop. This isn’t about pleasure, it is about duty.”

“Fine, then prove it.”

“What do you suggest?”

“Marry the ugliest bride you can find.” 

Jaime felt a small bout of resistance flare up in him before a thought occurred to him that felt like a gift from the gods, an answer to his prayers, a way to make everyone happy – perhaps even himself, if only a bit. 

“Would the Maid of Tarth do, your grace?” 

Cersei blinked. It was clear she had been angling for more of a fight.

“That cow Brienne? You would actually marry that hulking beast of a woman? Why?”

“For you. You said ‘the ugliest woman I could find.’ Can you think of any other eligible, high-born ladies still of child-bearing age who exceed her in ugliness?” 

“Not off the top of my head,” Cersei said, swirling the wine around in her goblet as she squinted at Jaime suspiciously. 

It was clear she wanted to protest but also had no idea the grounds on which to do it.

“Brienne is ideal. She and I are friends of a sort, and I am sure she would agree to a marriage of convenience with me. It is by far the best marriage offer she is ever likely to receive. And I doubt she would try to interfere with us too much.” 

“Still, you would have to bed her.”

The jealousy in Cersei’s voice was barely discernible, but it was discernible. 

“Yes, occasionally. Father wants a Lannister heir, and sooner or later, he always gets what he wants. But I’ll take no pleasure in it, trust me.” 

“If you did, I would almost be impressed,” Cersei said, half to herself. 

“But I am not married yet, and we have tonight to ourselves,” Jaime said, moving towards her once again. 

Cersei let him embrace her this time, and gave him a long kiss before she took the wine in her hand and poured it on top of his head. 

In a voice barely above a whisper she said, “I am still furious with you for letting Tyrion off with his life. Now unhand me before I break this over your head.” 

Jaime let her go but his nostrils flared, his breathing labored with anger as wine dripped from his hair onto his shoulders staining his white cloak burgundy. 

“You should go find your new bride to be. Perhaps _she_ can help you get this stain out.” 

Jaime turned to leave, intending to say nothing more to Cersei tonight. Joffrey’s death was still too fresh for her to see why he was in the right. However, at her door, he turned back impulsively to say, “Robert is dead, and he has been for a while. Very soon, I will no longer be at the beck and call of the royal family. You are running out of things to hold over me, Cersei. You may want to keep that in mind the next time you feel like throwing something at me or pouring something on me.” 

Jaime quickly exited and closed the door before he got a good look at her reaction. He did not want to see it. 

His veiled threat was about as empty as his assurances that he could still fight competently with his left hand. He had said what he had said because Cersei’s seeming ability to turn her affections for him on and off like a faucet rankled him. He still believed she loved him, underneath it all. But she also took him for granted, and that was beginning to take its toll. 

~*~ 

As Jaime made his way about the castle, away from Cersei’s chambers, he thought very seriously about tracking Brienne down and speaking with her about his proposal that very evening. However, he decided against it. Better to sleep on it, and make sure it still felt right in the morning. 

Instead, he made his way to his brother’s chambers. There were two guards standing watch, but as commander of the King’s Guard, they let him pass without so much as a side-glance. Or they probably would have, had it not been for the stains on his cloak. 

Jaime entered to find Tyrion was at his table, a plate picked clean in front of him and a goblet of wine in his hand. He was making up for lost time – both the immediate past, and the future. 

“My savior has returned! Come, sit with me and have a drink.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” Jaime said, removing his cloak and amour and letting it fall to the floor before sitting down next to his brother. 

“Is that our sister’s handiwork?” Tyrion asked, gesturing toward the cloak.

“Yes. And if she had had her way entirely, it would have been blood rather than wine.”

“Which part is she angrier about? You taking a wife or me keeping my head?”

“I’m not entirely sure. Though if I had to venture a guess, it would be your continued possession of a head.” 

“Ah, well, that will hopefully give me some comfort when I am freezing my balls off at the ass end of the world...assuming she doesn’t have me murdered on the trip up there first, which I certainly would not put past her.” 

“Perhaps I will be able to escort you up there myself. Once I am officially no longer a member of the King’s Guard, I shall be free to come and go more or less as I please.” 

“Well, I would not say no to your company, particularly given who else I am likely to be traveling with. Although I don’t know that a trip up to The Wall will be much of a honeymoon for you and your new bride, whoever she turns out to be.”

“I already know who it is going to be.” 

“Father has made arrangements already? Well, that was fast work, even for him.” 

Against all reason, Jaime felt himself blush and his ears go red as he began to correct Tyrion.

“No, I – I have decided on a bride.”

“Do tell,” Tyrion replied, with his eyebrow cocked. 

“Brienne, the Maid of Tarth.” 

Jaime had expected his brother to snicker or make some snide comment about Brienne’s looks. Yet all Jaime received from his brother was a long moment of silence in which he gazed at him through squinted, searching eyes. 

“What really happened between you and her on the road back to King’s Landing?”

Upon his return, Jaime had shared the tale of his journey back to the Capitol in very broad strokes with his father and brother. Cersei had not even cared to hear the broad strokes. But beyond that, his family was ignorant of much of what he had been through with Brienne, particularly the more personal things they had shared with one another during their ordeal. 

“A lot more than I care to relive right now,” Jaime finally replied, enigmatically.

“Did you fuck her?” 

“No!” 

“But you want to.” 

“I don’t – that’s not – it’s beside the point.”

“Wow, you really want to fuck her.” 

Jaime wanted to refute his brother’s assertion, but something in him could not quite manage it. It was not that he desired Brienne in any conventional way. And were he able to have Cersei as his wife, he would choose her in a heartbeat over 'Brienne the Beauty.'

But still, something about her drew him in, made him want to be near her, make her smile, make her laugh, give her things. He wanted to see Brienne happy. Which was as good a motivation to marry her as any in their present circumstances.

“Well, the important thing is, Cersei doesn’t think so.” 

“Yes. I suspect if she did, Brienne would fall victim to poison before you two ever said your vows. Although perhaps we are getting ahead of ourselves here. I can’t imagine you had time to fight with our sister about this _and_ propose to Brienne in the time between when you left here and came back.” 

“No. I’m going to talk to Brienne tomorrow.”

“And what if she says ‘No’?”

“That doesn’t seem very likely.” 

“From what I gather, she’s rejected multiple suitors.”

“Men who were likely horrible to her and only wanted to marry her because of her land and money. Obviously, this is different. She and I are friends.” 

“Still, despite her looks, she isn’t desperate. And she is not some silly, simpering girl with nothing better to do than get all in a dither because you winked at her. You cannot assume she will just accept your offer out of hand.” 

Jaime considered Tyrion’s words in earnest. As much as it preemptively wounded his pride to admit it, Tyrion was right. He could not just assume Brienne would say yes...particularly given the conditions under which he was offering. 

“You make a fair point, but I shall simply have to cross that bridge if it comes. And it may never come.” 

“Just like her.”

_That_ was the Tyrion Jaime knew and loved. 

“I may not be as widely bedded as you, but I still know how to make a woman scream my name.” 

“Well, that’s a horrifying thought that I suppose I brought upon myself,” Tyrion mused as he downed the last of the wine in his cup. He immediately moved to pour himself more and the two men proceeded to drink the night away, each savoring the other’s company too much to call it quits.


	2. The Proposal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime informs his father of his plans to wed Brienne. However, his proposal to her does not go over exactly as he had hoped.

Jaime awoke to the sound of his father’s stern voice.

“Get up, both of you, it is almost midday.”

Jaime rubbed his eyes and glanced over his shoulder to see his brother doing the same. They had drunk themselves silly into the wee hours of the morning and had both fallen asleep fully clothed on Tyrion’s bed. 

“Drink some water, eat something, and put yourself in order,” Tywin continued, now speaking exclusively to Jaime. “I want to see you in my office in two hours. We have arrangements to make.” 

Jaime had managed to get himself into an upright sitting position, but could not yet bring himself to stand, let alone verbally spar with his father. Tyrion, on the other hand, seemed more than up to the task as he rolled out of bed and moved to pour himself a drink. 

“If you are anxious to discuss potential wives for my dear brother, I’m afraid you’ve missed the boat on that. He’s already settled on his future bride.” 

“Oh, is that so?” Tywin asked, in a voice that sounded almost intrigued. “And who is this lucky woman you’ve decided to wed?” 

Jaime rubbed his temples with his hand as he stood up. Turning away from Tywin’s piercing gaze, Jaime made his way toward the pitcher of water on the table as he replied, “Brienne, the Maid of Tarth,” in the most detached tone he could conjure. 

Jaime poured himself a large glass and kept his back turned toward his father as he drank it in one long gulp. He awaited the inevitable chastisement but miraculously, it did not come. Tywin was silent. 

Eventually Jaime turned around and said, somewhat confrontationally, “Don’t tell me you have nothing to say on the matter of your future daughter-in-law.” 

“It’s a fine match. She has good lands, plenty of wealth, she is relatively young, and very strong. Strong enough to survive several pregnancies and birth many hearty sons who will no doubt be unparalleled warriors. Obviously, she is nothing to look at but that is far less important than anything else.” 

“And with any luck,” Tyrion interjected, “your children will inherit your good looks and the legacies of the houses Lannister and Tarth will remain untarnished for many generations yet to come.” 

He was being at least somewhat facetious, but Jaime didn’t have the energy to get into it with him. His head was pounding, and it was all he could do to keep from vomiting on his father’s boots. 

“I’m very grateful you approve of my choice,” he ground out, as he sat down at the table and continued to rub his temples. 

“I would still like to see you in my chambers in two hours. We must coordinate your official relief from the King’s Guard and make plans for your wedding as soon as possible.” 

Jaime did not give any shits about planning the actual wedding, and he intended to tell his father so at the meeting later today. But at the moment, all he wanted was some space to recover from his hang-over; as such, he nodded to his father obediently in the hopes that the old man would leave him be. 

After garnering Jaime’s agreement, Tywin turned on his heel and began to make his way out of the room before Tyrion spoke up again. 

“And will the prisoner be given leave to attend his brother’s wedding?”

Tywin turned back around and squinted at Tyrion. 

“You want to delay your journey up to The Wall.”

“Of course I do. And this is a perfect excuse. My only brother is to be married! And I will have my whole life to rot away slowly at The Wall. Surely a few extra weeks in civilization will not make a difference in the grand scheme of things.” 

Jaime was about to insist on his brother’s behalf, but before he could, Tywin acquiesced. 

“Very well, I shall allow you to remain here until Jaime is wed.” 

He then turned back around and left without another word. Jaime and Tyrion looked at each other for a moment, and then broke out into wide smiles. 

“That may be the nicest thing father has ever said to me _or_ done for me. He must be in a good mood.” 

“Yeah, you wouldn’t know it to look at him, but he was almost congenial. I didn’t know he was capable of being that agreeable," Jaime mused as he served himself some oatmeal. 

“You should get married more often.”

“Who knows, maybe when Brienne has our first healthy son, he’ll encourage the king to pardon you and bring you back down from The Wall.” 

“I doubt anything would make him as happy as all that, but one can hope.” 

As Jaime ate his breakfast, he felt a strange flutter in his stomach grow at the thought of Brienne having his son. He had fathered other children, of course, but none who were truly his by right. None he had been able to claim or raise as his own. And it mattered to him, more than he had let himself acknowledge before today. 

Lost in that delightful line of thought, Jaime half forgot about his brother sitting an arms-length away at the same table. 

“What?”

The word tore him from his reverie. 

“What?” 

“You went somewhere in your head and were grinning like an idiot about it.”

“It was nothing.” 

“Tell me.” 

“Another time,” Jaime replied dismissively, rising from his seat. “I need to go and find Brienne. I should probably make sure she will agree to marry me before father and I start making formal arrangements.” 

“You may want to freshen yourself a bit before you propose to her. You look like you stayed up all night drinking.” 

“Yes, thank you for that," Jaime replied sardonically. 

“Anytime.” 

~*~ 

Jaime did as his brother suggested and went back to his room to tidy himself up and change his clothes. At the same time, he sent a page out to find Brienne and bring her to his quarters. 

While awaiting her arrival, Jaime washed his face, combed his hair and selected an outfit that was both casual and flattering. For some reason, he felt the need to make a good impression, which he knew, rationally, was nonsense. She had met him first at his lowest moment, half starved and covered in shit. Why on earth would she care whether the shirt he was wearing now brought out his eyes?

Nevertheless, Jaime chose the shirt that brought out his eyes. 

He felt far more nervous than he had anticipated waiting for her and by the time she knocked on his door, his palms were downright sweaty. 

Jaime opened the door, inclined his head slightly and said, “Lady Brienne.” 

Brienne mirrored his nod and replied, “Ser Jaime.” 

“Come in, have a seat. Can I get you anything? Wine, food?”

“No, thank you, I came here from lunch with Lady Olena and Lady Margery.” 

“I gather you’ve become rather friendly with the women of that family.” 

“Yes, Lady Olena enjoys hearing of my exploits and Lady Margery enjoys sharing memories of Renly Baratheon.”

Her mention of Renly made Jaime’s stomach turn over. Although the man was dead, and no longer an actual obstacle to a marriage with Brienne, it still felt to Jaime as if he were competing with him for her affections. 

“What can I do for you, Ser Jaime?” 

“Well first of all, you can drop the formalities. Just ‘Jaime’ is fine.”

“Very well, why did you send for me _Jaime_?”

She put the tiniest bit of emphasis on his name as if she were gently mocking him, and Jaime felt his heart begin to flutter. 

“As you know, my brother begged mercy at his trial yesterday and was sentenced to a life at The Wall. What you are probably not aware of is the fact that my father offered this mercy to Tyrion in exchange for a promise from me. I am to leave the King’s Guard, marry, and start a family at Casterly Rock.” 

Jaime paused to take in Brienne’s face. She was still utterly impassive. Clearly her role in this was not yet apparent to her. 

“I asked to see you because...you are the woman I would most like to take for my wife, if you’ll have me.” 

Brienne blinked several times in quick succession and started looking around the room as if she expected to find spectators of some kind hiding in the shadows. 

“I’m sorry, if this is some kind of joke, I really do not think it is funny,” Brienne replied, standing up as if to leave the room. 

Jaime reached out, grabbed her upper arm with his left hand and forced her to turn towards him.

“It’s not a joke, Brienne. I am asking you to marry me.” 

“Why?” 

Jaime let out a small laugh, as he replied, “What do you mean, ‘Why’?”

“Don’t play the fool with me, Jaime Lannister, I know you are not one. If this is not some kind of cruel joke, then tell me why you want me. Why not one of the hundreds of other women in Westeros who have everything I have and are not ugly?” 

“Because I didn’t travel for two treacherous months with any of those other women. I didn’t bare a bit of my soul to them in a bathtub when I was half out of my mind with pain. I didn’t lose a hand for any of them or jump in a pit with a bear empty-handed to save them. And I don’t owe my life to any of them. I owe my life to you, and you are important to me. That’s why I want to marry you.” 

Brienne held his eyes for a long moment. She seemed to be searching for some indication of his sincerity beyond his words, and before too long, she appeared to have found it. She dropped her gaze, and smiled to herself, and it was the first time Jaime could have ever described her as ‘girlish.’ 

It was a thrill to see her make that face. And it made Jaime temporarily forget the full set of terms under which he was making the offer. 

“Is that a ‘yes’?” he asked, a smile in his voice. 

She returned his gaze, tears in her eyes, and said, “Yes, yes, I will marry you.” 

On impulse, Jaime reached out and moved to kiss her on the mouth. He meant for it to be a brief, chaste kiss, but the moment their mouths met, he was hit by a wave of desire so intense he soon found himself grasping her waist possessively as he opened his mouth to let their tongues meet. She followed his lead and they kissed the way seasoned lovers do, as if they had done this a hundred times before.

Jaime’s erection nearly reached its peak before he pulled away from her in shock. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, not sure which aspect of the moment he was truly sorry about. 

“It’s okay,” Brienne said, smiling and breathless. Her eyes were shinning, and the guilt Jaime felt over what he had to say next almost overwhelmed him into silence. Almost. 

Jaime pressed on but walked past her as he did so to avoid her eyeline as he leaned over his bed – an attempt to hide the bulge in his breeches. 

“Brienne, before we continue there is one other matter I must discuss with you about this arrangement. While I...care for you very deeply, I need to make it clear at the outset that I still...love the woman I love and that isn’t going to change, or stop.” 

Jaime paused, hoping Brienne would affirm she understood. However, she simply let the silence build until Jaime could tolerate it no more. 

Turning around, he asked, “Do you understand what I am saying?” 

Brienne’s expression made her look as if she was carved from stone. The coldness radiated off her so acutely Jaime could feel it from across the room. 

“I think I do. And while your feelings for her are your own, and not my affair, I will not marry you if you cannot at least pledge fidelity of body to me.” 

“Brienne, I...I can’t.”

“Then I can’t marry you, Ser Jaime. Good day.” 

Brienne made quick work of the space between herself and the door, but Jaime managed to slip in front of the door, and her, just before she managed to escape. 

“Please don’t do this, I am begging you. Noblemen are _rarely_ faithful to their wives. And at least I am not planning to go out whoring every other week, or sleep with half the chamber maids at Casterly Rock or lie to you about what I am doing. That is more than can probably be said for any other man you might marry. We could have a good life together, if you could simply let this one thing go.” 

“But I can’t,” Brienne said. The pain in her voice was as raw as if she had been physically wounded. 

Finally, Jaime had to relent. 

“Very well. As you cannot accept a marriage without total fidelity, and I cannot make an oath to you of that fidelity that I know I will not keep, we appear to be at an impasse. I apologize for wasting your time today.” 

Jaime moved aside, a blunt ache in his chest growing with every beat of his heart. This hurt more than he had expected it would. 

Brienne moved to open the door, walked over the threshold, and then turned around to say, “You say you cannot make an oath to me you know you will not keep, and yet you made an oath to Catelyn Stark that you seem to have no intention of keeping. I am not quite sure I understand the code of honor you think you are upholding, Ser Jaime.” 

Jaime watched her walk away, aware that he must meet with his father soon, and that he did not have good news to bring. However, his father weighed less on his mind than Brienne’s invocation of their oath to Lady Catelyn. 

She was correct that he had not done right by that promise since returning to King’s Landing, and it remained his duty to do what he could to find and protect the Stark girls. And the truth was, he could do that a lot more effectively as the Lord of Casterly Rock than he could as a member of the King’s Guard. 

Despite her rejection, Jaime had not yet given up on having Brienne as his wife. He just needed to figure out the right way to persuade her, and an idea was already percolating that he knew, in his bones, would do the trick. But he needed to work fast. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My updates will not always be this quick, sadly. But it's a 3 day weekend in the US, and I had a lot more free writing time than I normally do! Hope you enjoyed chapter 2, and I want to thank you all for your kudos and lovely comments so far. They are such a treat to see.


	3. The Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime prepares to leave his old life behind and start his new one.

Jaime got a message off to the armourer employed by the King’s Guard just before he had to set off to meet with his father. Tywin’s office was a journey from much of the Red Keep, a tactic no doubt intended to weaken visitors before they had even arrived.

Jaime gave a cursory knock and heard his father shout “Come in!” just as he entered. He strode toward the desk only to glimpse a cascade of yellow hair which promised to make this meeting at least twice as difficult as it otherwise would have been. 

“Thank you for joining us,” Tywin said with a slight edge in his voice. 

Jaime gathered he must be a minute or two late. He took a seat and barely made eye contact with Cersei, before resting his gaze on his father, who had called this meeting and clearly intended to orchestrate this upcoming barrage of significant life changes. 

“I would like to have the King make a formal acknowledgement of your retirement from The King’s Guard tomorrow. Please take the rest of today to get your affairs there in order and ready to hand off to your successor. We shall also need to pick a new Head of the King’s Guard. I have someone in mind, but if you have thoughts, I am open to them.” 

Jaime had one or two names that he felt were deserving, but no one it was worth fighting with his father about. 

“No, I am sure whoever you have chosen will do the job admirably.” 

“Good. Tomorrow you will submit yourself for retirement when the King holds court. Explain that your lost hand is an insurmountable impediment to your duties, and given the recent murder of King Joffrey, it is paramount that you be replaced by someone more up to the task.” 

“Very well,” Jaime replied. He thought about protesting the logic that the number of hands one possesses makes a difference in the face of poisoning, but decided it was not worth upsetting Cersei over. 

“As for your marriage, I would like it to take place in a fortnight. I assume the bride has agreed to your proposal?” 

Jaime felt his face go a bit red as he replied, “Not quite yet. But she will soon enough.” 

“Don’t tell me she is holding out for a better offer!” Cersei interjected, cruel amusement in her voice.

“No. She remains unconvinced that my proposal was sincere. She believed it to be an elaborate cruel joke, and I just need a bit of time to persuade her that it is not.”

“Well, I can’t blame her. If I looked like that, I would probably come to the same conclusion,” Cersei mused. 

Jaime met her eyes and made a face that implied the real reason Brienne had rejected him. To Jaime’s surprise, she had the decency to look the tiniest bit chagrined. Tywin soon returned to the conversation.

“Fine, but you have a week to convince her and no more. We do not have time to wait around while the girl overcomes her every insecurity.” 

“It should be more than enough.” 

“Good. Now, let’s discuss the guest list.” 

Jaime half tuned out as his father rattled off various wedding logistics from guest lists, to meal-planning, to entertainment. Occasionally he provided an opinion or a preference, but for the most part acquiesced to his father’s suggestions immediately. 

Tywin was a practical, unromantic man – for the most part – and he felt Jaime’s wedding should be a practical, unromantic, and small-expense affair. Jaime was all in favor of this and he knew Brienne would be as well. She would not want an extravagant, flashy ordeal, of that he was sure.

Cersei seemed to be there only for the opportunity to make underhanded remarks about Brienne’s looks. However, it was pretty clear to Jaime she was jealous and indeed, by the end of the meeting, he was beginning to worry that their father might start to cotton onto the subtext of Cersei’s barbs. 

As soon as they reached the bottom of Tywin’s checklist, Jaime rose and asked, “May I get back to tending to my other affairs? I do have some things to put in order for the King’s Guard tomorrow, and other matters that require immediate attention as well.” 

“Yes, go on. And please let me know when Lady Brienne accepts your proposal, so I can affirm the color scheme for the decorators.” 

Jaime nodded and moved to leave, anxious to get down to the office of the King’s Guard where he had requested the armourer meet him that afternoon. However, partway down the stairs he was waylaid by his sister, who had apparently departed soon after him. 

“Well, it looks to be a blessed event. I can’t wait to give a toast to the happy couple.” 

Jaime gave a quick look around before replying, under his breath, “You need to tone down your resentment about this. It was getting so conspicuous up there, even father was in danger of catching on.” 

“Oh please. If he hasn’t noticed by now, he never will.” 

“Father is determined not to know. Everyone else is already halfway to believing it, and if you keep on like this, it will only get worse.” 

“So, why did the cow of Tarth really reject your proposal?”

“Because I was honest with her. Completely honest.” 

“Why?” Cersei asked, her tone making it clear she thought Jaime was an idiot. 

“My silly sense of honor,” Jaime retorted, speeding up in an attempt to outpace Cersei. 

However, she sped up too and then pulled him into an alcove for a kiss. Jaime surrendered to it at first but broke it off as soon as he could. Half the time he swore she actually wanted to get caught. 

“Come to my chambers,” she whispered, threading her hands through his hair. 

Jaime seriously considered it. She had not been particularly affectionate with him since he had returned to King’s Landing, and he missed her like this. However, time was a factor and someone was waiting for him in his office. Plus, he was still a bit irate at her for how she was talking about Brienne. 

“I can’t right now, I have another meeting.” 

“Make them wait,” she implored seductively, putting his hand against her breast. 

Jaime stroked it a few times appreciatively but garnered a certain satisfaction in his continued refusal. He liked the reversal of power. 

“You are the one who is going to have to wait.”

He then walked off purposefully, feeling a little bit sexually frustrated and very emotionally satisfied. 

~*~ 

Jaime found the armourer waiting in his office as requested and made haste in explaining what he wanted. He was surprised by how much he could actually offer the man when it came to estimates of Brienne’s height, arm length, torso width, and so on. He had not realized how much he had actually paid attention to her. 

“I believe I have all I need, Ser Jaime. This should take about a week.” 

“Is there any way to get it sooner? I can pay double, it is no problem.” 

“With two men working, I could have it ready in three days.” 

“That should suffice, thank you. And I would like to be billed for this personally. It should not come out of the King’s Guard’s accounts.” 

“Very good.” 

Jaime nodded and the man set off. He did as his father bid, wrapping up outstanding paperwork – guard schedules for the next two weeks, settling up outstanding accounts, organizing ledgers and various documents for whoever his replacement would be. 

Jaime was surprised by how happy it made him. He had always accepted that being in the King’s Guard was the only way to stay as close to Cersei as he wanted to be, and that the negative aspects of it were insignificant next to that. But as Jaime reshuffled the last few sets of documents on his desk, he felt himself getting physically lighter with every moment. 

Clearly this job had been more of a gilded cage than he had let himself acknowledge. Now that he was to be free of it, he could finally admit just how much it had confined him. 

~*~ 

His dismissal from the King’s Guard the next day happened with little fanfare. Jaime publicly begged leave from it to the King-in-name, his illegitimate son, who had been coached in his response by the King-in-practice, Jaime’s father. It was the first order of business for the day at court, and as soon as it was through, Jaime went back to his chambers, disrobed from that armor for the last time and realized his day was as free as he was. 

He thought very seriously about trying to find Brienne and maybe doing a bit more work in trying to persuade her. But ultimately, he decided against it. He had a good hand to play, and he felt it was better to just lay it all out for her at once, when the time was right. 

Instead, he made his way to Tyrion’s chambers. Their time left together was dwindling day by day, and Jaime felt he should take as much advantage of it as he could. In the back of his mind, the thought had also occurred to him that Tyrion might be able to help him with the Brienne situation. 

Tyrion and Brienne had both suffered as high-born outcasts, not to mention his brother’s vast experience with women, which Jaime realized did not perfectly translate to Brienne, but which could still be of some use nonetheless. 

“So, how does it feel to be a free man?” Tyrion asked him, as Jaime entered his chambers. 

“Better than I thought it would, truth be told.” 

“I’m surprised you are surprised. You always hated that job.” 

“I don’t know about that,” Jaime said, a bit defensively. 

“Yes, well, that was always the problem,” Tyrion mused, as he handed Jaime a newly poured cup of wine. “You are terrible at knowing how you feel.” 

Jaime face scrunched with skepticism as he took the drink he was offered. 

“What makes you say that?” 

“Being your brother for thirty-five years,” Tyrion replied, as if it were so obvious a dim-witted child would have known better than to ask. 

Jaime thought about prodding his brother a bit more on that subject, but decided it was less important than his other agenda items at the moment.

“I don’t know if you’ve heard, but Lady Brienne did not accept my first offer of marriage.” 

Tyrion let out a small chuckle but there was sympathy in his eyes. 

“I honestly can’t say I am surprised. Either you were dishonest with her, and it made her doubt your motives, or you were honest with her, and it made her feel ugly and rejected, as she has no doubt felt her entire life.” 

Tyrion had always been above average at reading people.

“The latter.” 

“Well, your honesty is commendable I suppose, but it will be the harder of the two for Brienne to move past. I am assuming that is part of why you are here, to beg my help in how to move her into agreeing to be your bride.” 

“That’s not entirely why I am here, but now that you mention it, I was going to ask if you had any suggestions.” 

“Tell me a little more about her.”

“She is...an incredibly skilled warrior. Not the best I’ve ever seen, but one of the best. She is mostly practical, but she can also be quite sentimental about certain things. She is courageous, stubborn, dignified, and honorable to a fault. She may be the single most honorable person I’ve ever met. And she is...good. Probably one of the only people I’ve ever known who is truly good down to her soul. She –”

“Gods it’s worse than I realized,” Tyrion interjected, amusement laced in his tone. “I thought you just wanted to fuck her but you actually love her, don’t you?”

“I care for her. She is my friend.”

“And you wonder why I think you are bad at knowing how you feel.” 

“What difference does it make whether I love her or not? The truth is I love Cersei more, which is the real problem here.” 

“Do you actually love her, or are you just in the habit and continuing to do what is familiar to you?” 

Jaime struggled with Tyrion’s question and realized, predictably, his brother had at least been right about one thing – he was bad at knowing how he felt. 

“I don’t know. But at any rate, it’s not something I am willing to give up, even for Brienne.” 

Tyrion sighed deeply. 

“Very well. Let’s return to the issue of the Maid of Tarth and how to convince her you are worth chaining herself to.” 

Jaime had to smile at that as the image of the two of them literally chained together when they were taken hostage ran through his mind. 

“I have already started to assemble a very expensive set of gifts for her, a suit of armor made to her specifications and the Valyrian steel sword that matches mine.” 

“It’s a good start.”

“Also, a promise to do everything in my power, once I am Lord of Casterly Rock, to locate the Stark girls and offer them protection.” 

Tyrion suddenly seemed lost in thought and Jaime had an inkling where in his mind he had wandered – Sansa, his former wife. From what Jaime had heard, in his absence, Tyrion had done his best to protect Sansa from the ire of Joffrey and the machinations of their father. He had always had a soft spot for the helpless and downtrodden. 

Eventually, however, he came to and said, “I think that will go a long way, but can I offer a bit of advice?” 

“That’s why I am here.” 

“Give it all to her with no strings attached. Let her know you still want to be her husband but assure her these gifts come with no demands in that arena, and that you will follow through on your promise either way.”

“I am perfectly happy to do that, but I don’t know why you think that will work.” 

“Because Brienne _wants_ to marry you. But she needs to feel that she is the one setting terms here, not you. When you give the gifts without demand or expectation, it gives her an opening to make her own demands.” 

“But the problem is, I can’t meet her demands.” 

“By that time, they will likely have changed. I suspect she was quite hurt when you told her the truth about your expectations for a marriage the first time around. Anger and pain suppress people’s better judgement. When she’s had a bit of time to think it through, she will no doubt realize the opportunity to marry you is one she simply cannot pass up, regardless of her pride. But she needs an opening that lets her set terms that allow her to save face, if only to herself.” 

“That seems reasonable, but there’s no guarantee that is what will happen. She is stubborn, and prideful in a certain way. I don’t know that she will be able to get past her injury to see reason.” 

“It is a gamble to be sure, but one I feel fairly confident in. But just to hedge our bets, does she have any friends or confidants in King’s Landing that you know of?”

“Ladies Margery and Olenna. She is friendly with them and I believe takes meals with them regularly.” 

“Excellent, that is excellent. You should set up a meeting between myself and Lady Olenna as soon as possible. I will tell her of your proposal and persuade her to sway Brienne to say yes.” 

“Why would she do that?” 

“A couple of reasons. One, if she truly has any affection for Brienne, she will easily see this is the best thing for her. Two, she doesn’t like Cersei and will likely jump at the chance to ensure anything that might make her unhappy. Three –”

“Fine. I trust you. I don’t have the head for politics that you do. If you think this will help, I will send word to Lady Olena today to come see you at her earliest convenience.” 

“Good. With any luck at all, the Maid of Tarth will soon be a maid no more. It will be my wedding gift to you – the wedding.” 

Jaime had to smile at that.


	4. The Advice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lady Olenna helps Brienne make her decision while Jaime struggles to keep up with both of the women in his life.

They sent for Lady Olenna immediately and she agreed to meet with Tyrion when the bells tolled three. Jaime spent the time in between amiably with his brother but left well before Lady Olenna arrived. According to Tyrion, he would ‘ruin it’ if he stayed. 

Jaime took him at his word and made himself scarce in the wake of the formidable dowager. He headed back to his chambers only to find Cersei there waiting for him. This time, he did not turn her away. 

They fucked all afternoon, and she seemed abnormally eager to please. Jaime suspected she had taken his warning the other day to heart. As cavalier as she was pretending be about it, she seemed to understand he was, in fact, marrying someone else, and leaving imminently to make his home at Casterly Rock. 

However, the whole time, Jaime fought off the creeping sense that he was being disloyal to Brienne. He knew it was an absurd notion. He had been faithful to Cersei for twenty years, and he had been completely truthful with Brienne about it. It was why he was in the predicament he was in. So, how did he still end up with guilt over it?

The guilt and the question lingered long after Cersei took her leave, and Jaime found himself turning to Tyrion’s favorite form of palliation – wine. He often took a glass or two with dinner, but this evening he got about five glasses in before calling it quits and getting back into the bed he and Cersei had made ample use of that afternoon. 

The sheets still smelled of her slightly, and it made his cock twitch. Jaime brought his left hand down to it and began to massage it. He was clumsier than he would have been with his right, but it still worked well enough; soon he was completely stiff and aching for relief. 

His hand kept up the rhythm and he searched his mind for a particularly appealing memory of Cersei fucking him. However, none of them were powerful enough to get him to climax. His erection moving toward painful, he let his mind wander to his kiss with Brienne when he first proposed to her. 

Instantly his body felt hot all over. His erection began to throb even more, and he felt like he was just on the brink. His mind began concocting scenarios of her wet and naked in the steaming tubs at Harrenahl. He thought of her kneeling over him, taking him inside her warm, moist body and holding him close with her long, strong arms as she fucked him senseless. 

The image did the trick like a magic spell and Jaime soon found his stomach covered in cum. Errantly, it occurred to him to be surprised he still had any left after his afternoon. As he wiped himself down with the corner of a sheet, he did find himself wondering -- not for the first time -- what it would be like to have sex with Brienne. 

In fact, the question had been at the back of his mind for some time now, every so often creeping its way to the front. He had always approached it with detached curiosity and not much more. However, it held an inflated power now that he was determined to have her as his bride.

Assuming Tyrion was successful with Lady Olenna, Brienne would likely be lying next to him in less than a fortnight. His hypothetical was about to get very real, and the thought made him...excited. 

He could see, objectively, what was unattractive about her. He wasn’t blind, after all. But she also had a great many things to recommend her, as well – those gorgeous eyes, for one. For another, her blonde hair, which Jaime had always liked. Truth be told, he even liked the fact that she was tall and muscular. 

Ever since he had grown into manhood, Jaime had longed to experience sex unbridled from the delicacy of most women. Much as he enjoyed Cersei’s sexual company, Jaime still had to exercise quite a bit of restraint to keep her from being injured. Brienne was his physical equal, and he could not stop himself from picturing with her a fuck so unhinged, so wild, so aggressive, it broke the bed. And maybe a few other things, too. 

The thought of it was more intoxicating than all the wine Jaime had imbibed that evening, and as he set about the task of sleep, he found himself praying Tyrion had come through for him that afternoon. 

~*~

Tyrion had indeed done right by his brother with Lady Olenna. Not that she required much in the way of persuasion. She was a shrewd woman and could see the tactical advantage of reducing Cersei’s influence on Jaime. Tywin would not be alive forever, and if Jaime was to inherent the Lannister’s wealth, lands, and armies, Lady Olenna knew it was better to stop Cersei from having default control of them. 

Anything likely to move Jaime Lannister out of from under his sister’s thumb was a victory in her book. And if it could move her family farther into his good graces by the same token, so much the better. She also had a sentimental side, and genuine affection for Brienne. There was no downside at all, from her point of view. 

Lunching with Brienne and Margery the next day, she decided not to beat around the bush. The moment the servants had poured the wine and taken their leave, Lady Olenna turned to Brienne and said, “So, I hear the newly instated heir of Casterly Rock wants you for his bride.” 

Margery gasped while Brienne gave the dowager a look like a frightened rabbit caught in a trap. For her part, Lady Olenna was amazed anything could scare Brienne like that and in that moment, she realized Tyrion had not misrepresented the extent of Brienne’s feelings. 

A woman like her doesn’t make a face like that about something like a marriage proposal unless love truly is part of the equation. 

“How did you hear about that?” Brienne asked, her voice softer than usual.

Lady Olenna waved the question away as if it were a fly.

“Oh, never mind, it is unimportant. What is important is why on earth you turned it down.” 

She set her piercing eyes on the woman who sat a good head above her while Brienne continued to grasp for words that seemed beyond her reach. 

“I – I don’t, I couldn’t –”

“It’s about Cersei, isn’t it?” 

Lady Olenna’s matter-of-fact tone made it unclear whether they were talking about Cersei’s general influence, her incestuous relationship with Jaime, or both. 

“Yes,” Brienne finally replied in an undertone. 

“My dear, I do understand your...reservations about mixing yourself up with the likes of the Lannisters. We were skeptical about it ourselves. But from what I understand, this is not simply a marriage of alliances or conveniences. I gather he has genuine affection for you, and that makes you luckier than most. Not to mention, now that he has left the King’s Guard, he is one of the most eligible bachelors in the whole Seven Kingdoms. Pardon my bluntness, my dear, but you would be a damn fool to let this opportunity pass you by.”

“My Lady, he...he told me he does not plan to be faithful to me.” 

Lady Olenna took Brienne’s hand in her own and looked into the much younger, much taller woman’s eyes with both sympathy and worldliness. 

“I admire your steadfastness to an oath of marriage and what it means. It is admirable. It is also unrealistic. In this country’s history, you could probably count on one hand the number of noble men who remained wholly faithful to their wives within their marriage. Even Eddard Stark, who was famously honorable and dutiful, had a bastard by another woman. Frankly I think it was more noble of Ser Jaime to be honest with you about it up front rather than take you for a fool after the fact, as most of them do.” 

She paused, giving greater weight to her next words. 

“I understand you feel your hesitation comes from a place of honor, Lady Brienne, but ask yourself this – if any other nobleman had made you a similar offer of marriage, with similar terms, would you have been so quick and steadfast in your rejection?”

Brienne tried to say yes, but could not bring herself to lie to the older woman. 

“No.”

Lady Olenna patted her hand gently. 

“No. Because it would not injure your pride for a man you did not love to declare his intention to bed other women. Your injured feelings are understandable. But don’t let them stop you from having what you desire. The man you love wants to marry you. He has one strike against him, and more things to recommend him than I could possibly count. The only real choice here is which gown you should wear on your wedding day.” 

Brienne sighed, and turned her face to her lap, seeming defeated. 

“I know it is foolish to reject this offer. And yet, I cannot make myself say yes to it. I can’t.” 

She was almost pleading, and Lady Olenna knew just what to recommend. 

“Then make your own counter-offer.” 

Brienne blinked, seeming confused. 

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, my dear, marriage is a contract. If you don’t like the terms he has offered you, make a counter-offer. Give terms of your own. Make him swear to you an oath he _can_ keep, and your pride will let your heart and body have what it wants. Not to mention, it will ensure the survival of your father’s house, which I would hope is no small thing to you.” 

Brienne’s continued hesitation prompted Margery to weigh in. 

“My grandmother is right, Lady Brienne. You should listen to her.”

Brienne still seemed unconvinced. 

“Just hear him out one more time. I gather he plans to seek an audience with you again in a few days. Take the time to consider what you really want for your life, and how you can bend the terms of his offer to your own desires. Trust me, ten years from now, when you sit in the grand hall of Casterly Rock, your children by him playing at your feet, you will marvel you ever considered for a moment turning him down.” 

Brienne nodded, a sober look on her face.

“Thank you, My Lady. You have given me much to think on and I appreciate your forthrightness. If you will excuse me, I should like some time to myself to think on what you have said.”

“Of course. Give it some thought, and know if you need any further council, we are here for you.” 

“Thank you.” 

Brienne rose, bowed to Lady Olenna and Margery briefly, and then hastened out of the garden and back to her quarters. By the time she closed the door to her room, she knew what she was going to do.

First, she composed a letter to her father on Tarth. He would need some notice in order to arrive in time for his only child’s wedding. Once this missive was safely affixed to a raven in flight, Brienne’s next task was to call upon Lady Margery’s dressmaker.

Although Lady Olenna had only mentioned a wedding gown in passing, it made Brienne realize she owned nothing fit for a marriage ceremony in which she was the bride. Strange as it was, now that she had made up her mind to be Jaime’s bride, she felt an obligation to do right by his reputation. She needed an outfit fit for the Lady of Casterly Rock. 

Although she had never taken much of a liking to fine gowns, Brienne was surprised to discover she had such an exact idea about what she wanted to wear. When the dressmaker arrived, Brienne spoke to her for almost an hour, hammering out all the details and specifics before the woman took her measurements. She got a particular amount of satisfaction from informing the woman at the end of the conversation that, when ready, this dress was to be charged against the Lannister’s accounts. 

Brienne thought about asking her to keep this discrete, but in the end decided it did not matter. It would be announced publicly soon enough. Granted, she might very well gossip about this before then and it could easily make its way back to Jaime in the meantime, but that prospect did not bother Brienne. In fact, it pleased her. She like the idea of being one step ahead of him, making him the last to know for certain about his own impending nuptials. It made her feel in control, which soothed her pride considerably. 

Lady Olenna had been right after all. 

~*~

“So, I hear congratulations are in order,” Cersei said through gritted teeth the moment Jaime entered her chambers the next day. 

Jaime’s brows furrowed. 

“What are you talking about?”

“The cow of Tarth has agreed to marry you.”

“Where did you hear that?” Jaime asked, his tone a mix of hope and confusion. 

“Varys isn’t the only one with spies and informants. Apparently, Brienne ordered a very expensive gown made yesterday of blue and gold silk. Apparently, the center waistband and the cape are to bare the same emblem – a lion’s head profile with sapphire eyes. And apparently, when it is complete, it is to be charged to the Lannister accounts.”

“What is your exact source of this information?”

Jaime desperately wanted to believe Cersei was telling him the truth, but he knew her well enough to know it was just as likely she was lying to him as some form of manipulation or test. 

“One of my handmaidens. The gossip has been spreading like wildfire amongst the servants of the Red Keep since yesterday afternoon. Brienne met with Margery Tyrell’s dressmaker just after lunch yesterday, and by nightfall, my handmaiden asked me if it was true that you were marrying the Lady of Tarth as she was brushing out the tangles from my hair.” 

Jaime’s first thought was that he needed a way to verify this independent of Cersei; he needed to speak to his brother. But before he could do that, he needed to find a way to soothe Cersei’s jealousy. She was clearly not handling the news well. 

“I don’t know anything about this. I have not spoken to Brienne since my first proposal three days ago, when she rejected me over my feelings for you. However, if it is true, this is good news for us. It means she has accepted my terms and will not try to interfere in our relationship.” 

As he said this Jaime tried to take Cersei into his arms to celebrate their victory, but she pushed him away. 

“I had to hear it from my handmaiden, Jaime. I nearly broke down crying in front of her when she asked me about it last night. It was mortifying.” 

“I’m sorry, but this is the very first I am hearing of any of this. You could not possibly expect me to warn you of something I knew nothing about.” 

“Why would she do that? Order that dress before she even formally accepted your offer and it was announced publicly. What kind of game is she playing?” 

Although she mostly appeared to be talking to herself, Jaime felt compelled to answer all the same.

“You are being paranoid. Brienne is not that sort of person. She doesn’t scheme and manipulate people and play games with them. She probably just wanted to give the dressmakers a head-start to save them from having to work night and day at the last minute. It was likely an act of conscience that she simply forgot to beg a bit of discretion for. I truly don’t think anything more sinister is afoot here.” 

“How can you be so naïve?”

“I am telling you, Brienne simply is not the sort of woman who behaves that way. She does not operate by concocting elaborate plans that involve secret conspiratorial agendas carried out through clothing orders. She is not like that!”

“Unlike me,” Cersei whispered in reply, saying the words Jaime had deliberately kept unsaid. 

“That’s not what I said.” 

“You did not need to. You two really are a pair, you and the Lady of Tarth – two big dumb blondes, only ever reacting to the choices other people around you make because you don’t have the foresight to think even two steps ahead of any of them. Well, at least _you_ are good looking. It is your one saving grace.”

In a fit of rage, Jaime grabbed her and pushed her up against the nearest wall, his nostrils flaring as he exhaled aggressively. However, he could see in her eyes that she was trying to provoke him, and while it had worked, he knew he could not let himself give into it fully. Partly because it would have been utterly dishonorable to do violence to her but also because she was trying to goad him into proving her point – that he was vulnerable to her manipulations – and he refuse to give her the satisfaction. 

Instead he let her go and backed up about four steps before asking, point blank, “Why are you doing this? What do you hope to gain from saying things like that to me?” 

She smiled at him with mock sympathy. 

“See, always at least two steps behind everyone around you.”

“Fuck you,” Jaime declared before turning his back on her to leave. 

“Oh, I forgot, that is your other saving grace,” Cersei yelled at him as he exited her room and slammed the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your very lovely comments so far! Looking forward to continuing this fic. :)


	5. The Counter-Offer(s)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime proposes for a second time

Jaime made a beeline for Tyrion’s quarters, desperate to escape Cersei’s poisonous words. But as much as they rankled, he could not find a way to refute them, and it occurred to him that perhaps her point about him being well-matched with Brienne was not without merit. 

She was not the sort of person to concoct a scene like that, and he could probably do with a lot fewer people in his life manipulating him. 

The moment Jaime entered Tyrion’s room, his brother held up his glass in salute.

“Ah, the groom-to-be! If the castle gossip is to be believed, my conversation with Lady Olenna has borne fruit. I will accept thanks in the form of whores and...well, whores.” 

“So, you’ve heard the rumor as well? Good to know Cersei didn’t just invent it for the sake of an argument.”

“I take it Lady Brienne has not formally accepted your offer, then?” 

“No. I haven’t spoken to her since my last proposal was roundly rejected.” 

“Well, clearly at this point it is a mere formality, so why don’t you call upon her today and see this business put to bed...so to speak.”

Jaime decided to ignore his brother’s implication, although that thought was never far from his mind. 

“I still have gifts in the making. Even if I can take her answer for granted this time, I shouldn’t act like it.”

Tyrion’s eyebrows looked in danger of disappearing into his hairline. 

“That was almost poetic. I’m impressed.” 

“Um, thank you,” Jaime replied in a sardonic tone. 

He accepted the wine Tyrion handed him then and took a sizable swallow. 

“So, what’s the over-under on baby number one arriving before your first anniversary?”

“Gods, I forgot about that stupid tradition. I hope you aren’t thinking of joining in.”

“The other Lords likely won’t let me, as I won’t be around to pay up if I lose.” 

Jaime had half forgotten about that nonsense. Highborn lords (and the occasionally lady) liked to bet on the arrival of the first born whenever two noble houses joined. The gold cloaks never partook in such things, and Jaime had rarely paid it much attention. But now that he was formally back amongst the gentry, he was once again fair game for such shenanigans, and he was not thrilled by the idea. 

“Please don’t encourage the rest of them. I hate the idea of being the object of that kind of speculation.” 

“Well, the rest of them may not know you’ve already successfully fathered three children, but your virility is under no doubt in my mind.” 

“Oh good, because that was definitely at the top of my list of concerns,” Jaime shot back with exaggerated sarcasm. 

“Oh, let them have their fun. You’ll be having your own with the maid of Tarth before too long.” 

“You are quite determined to keep that the subject of this conversation, aren’t you?” 

“You don’t know how much this pleases me! We can finally converse about your sexual exploits without any fear that I might vomit. I have been waiting for this for nearly two decades.” 

“Has it occurred to you that perhaps you need a hobby?”

“Has it occurred to you that I’m a wealth of information on the subject of fucking women who are considerably taller than myself?”

“Brienne isn’t that much taller than me,” Jaime replied, a bit more defensively than he had intended. 

They continued on like that for much of the morning and Jaime was pleased to find when he returned to his chambers a note from the armorer informing him Brienne’s gift was ready. He immediately rang for a page and sent them to request an audience with his bride-to-be first thing in the morning. 

Unsurprisingly he received an affirmative response, and despite the rumor mill’s assurances, it warmed his heart more than he would have expected. She knew what he was going to ask, and if her answer to the bigger question was ‘No,’ she would have said no to the smaller question. But she had agreed to see him, which meant the rumors were true. 

Jaime took off his boots and laid down on his bed. As he stared at the canopy, he imagined himself in a week’s time, on this very same bed, in this very same spot, but naked with Brienne on top of him riding his cock. 

The thought instantly gave him a powerful erection, and Jaime let his mind flow freely thinking about all the wonderful ways they would spend their wedding night as he grabbed hold of his arousal and sought release. Like the last time he indulged this fantasy, it took very little time for him to reach his climax. 

That was probably what bothered him so much about Tyrion’s endless sexual barbs. Despite her looks, Jaime felt an almost overwhelming attraction to Brienne. The level of it verged on embarrassing and he hated the thought that even someone as well-meaning and sympathetic as his brother might see just how far-gone he was over her. 

The worst part was, Jaime could not understand it himself. He did not understand why he felt so strongly towards Brienne, or why those feelings gave him such anxiety and shame. Was it because he felt disloyal to Cersei? Was it because Brienne was unattractive and often treated as a joke by the Lords and Ladies of Westeros? Was it because her power over him made him feel weak and vulnerable?

Whatever the reason, Jaime only hoped that once their marriage was consummated, this feverish hold she seemed to have on him would dissipate. 

A tinier part of him hoped it would not. 

~*~

Jaime rose early the next morning, ate a light breakfast, and took pains to make himself look appealing as he prepared to propose to Brienne for the second time that week. 

The armorer delivered her gift right on schedule, and Jaime made a point to hide it under a cloak to make the reveal a bit more dramatic. While both of his siblings exceeded him in their flair for dramatics, Jaime also was not above them every now and then. And he had meant what he said to Tyrion the day before – he did not want to ask Brienne in a way that took her answer for granted. 

Even if she had already made up her mind, it was dishonorable for Jaime to act like it. 

Jaime had asked to see her at midday, and he arranged for a hearty lunch to be brought to his chambers so they could dine together and hopefully toast their impending nuptials. And just as the servants who had brought the meal made their way out of his chambers Brienne appeared in the open doorway, looking strangely meek. 

“My Lady, do come in,” Jaime said, by way of a greeting, as the servants skittered away. 

Brienne smiled softly at him and did as asked. Jaime closed the door and the pair stared at each other, a painful awkwardness growing between them as the seconds ticked past. 

“Have a seat,” Jaime said, walking by her and pulling out one of the two chairs next to the table for her. 

“Very well,” Brienne replied, taking it. 

“Would you like some wine?”

Brienne normally did not partake of much wine, particularly during the day. She did not like the way it made her head feel fuzzy, nor how it made her even more clumsy than she was sober. But given the circumstances, she decided it was for the best. 

“Yes, I’ll have some if you are.” 

“Very well.”

Jaime poured them both a full goblet and took a long swallow of his own before pressing on. 

“Brienne I – I asked you here today because I still want you to be my wife. I do understand your reservations, and while I still hold to what I said earlier about my affections for another, I want you to know I do take my vows seriously all the same. So, whether I marry you or another, as Lord of Casterly Rock, I promise I will do everything in my power to find the Stark girls and return them safely to their home. Even if it means defying my father, or the King himself, I will do it because we swore to Catelyn Stark we would.”

Jaime strode over to the cloaked mannequin and unveiled the armor underneath. Brienne gasped and stood up. 

“I have also had this armor made especially for you. I hope I got your measurements right.”

“Jaime it is extraordinary. I don’t know what to say.”

She stroked the breast plate lovingly and Jaime swore he could almost feel the affection gesture against his own chest. 

“I also have one more gift for you.”

Jaime pulled the sword with the golden hilt incrusted with rubies out of the scabbard that was hung along the back of his chair. He held up the blade end with his bad hand, so it was balanced length-wise between his arms as he handed it gingerly to her. 

She took it from him and gazed at it for a moment before declaring, “This is Valyrian steel. How did you...?” 

“It was one of two forged from Ned Stark’s old sword. I have the other. I want this one to be yours...whether or not you decide to marry me, I give these gifts to you freely and without expectation. They are tokens of my affection for you, which will endure no matter how you choose to answer my next question.” 

“Yes!” Brienne blurted out, before Jaime had the chance to formally make the offer a second time. 

“My answer is yes. But I have one condition of my own.” 

Jaime’s brow furrowed slightly as he asked, “And what is that?”

Brienne took a deep breath and looked him straight in the eye as she said, “I will not bed you while you remain the lover of another.”

Jaime did not know what he had expected Brienne to say, but it had not been that. He struggled to summon a response. 

“But...that’s part of what a marriage is.” 

“True, but you don’t get to have it both ways Jaime Lannister. You don’t get to set terms that give you everything you want – both in the marriage and outside it – while I am the only one who would have to sacrifice in such a scenario. If I must sacrifice your fidelity, you must sacrifice something too.” 

“My family needs an heir.” 

“And it is entirely up to you whether or not they will have one. I only refuse to share your bed while you are also sharing it with someone else. The moment you tell me that is done, I will happily grant you full marriage rights.” 

“And how do you know I won’t just lie to you to get my heir, and then go back to sharing the bed of another?” 

“I don’t. But if I make the vow in public to be your wife, you must make a vow to me in private that will not lie to me about this. If you wish for us to be intimate, and for me to bare your children, you must promise to forsake all others. That is my offer to you.” 

Jaime walked to the other side of the room and stared at the wall. He felt immensely frustrated, but he knew in his heart that what she asked was not unreasonable, given the terms of his initial offer. He also knew, despite his immense reservations about saying yes to this absurd proposal of Brienne’s, that he was going to do it. 

The idea of marrying anyone but her was unbearable to him at this point, and he was dug in too deep with his father to simply back out and return to the King’s Guard. But there had to be some other way...

Eventually, it dawned on him. 

“Very well, I have a counter-offer to your counter-offer. I accept your condition, on the following two conditions. First, I insist we consummate the marriage on our wedding night, both so that we may fully fulfill our vows, and to ensure you are irrefutably my wife in law. A marriage unconsummated can be annulled, and I refuse to allow even the possibility of such a thing.”

Brienne’s face scrunched slightly at this, but she seemed unable to dispute his logic, and soon said, “Very well, I accept that condition. What is the second?” 

“That if you choose to lay with me without my conceding my rights to another, that I am not obligated to do so after the fact.”

“Meaning, if I give in to you without a promise fidelity from you, the promise does not hold just because we had sex.”

“Yes.”

Brienne gave him an enigmatic look that seemed to last a short lifetime before she finally broke their eye contact and picked up her glass of wine. 

“Very well. If you accept my terms, I accept yours.”

Jaime picked up his glass, clinked it against hers and they drank in unison. 

“I have to admit,” Jaime said, as he sat down and began serving himself lunch, “while I am pleased we are to be married after all, I am also quite disappointed we won’t get much opportunity to share the best parts of it. I was so looking forward to that with you.” 

As he said this, he smiled at her the most charming smile she’d ever seen, and Brienne felt a wave of desire sweep over her, almost as strong as when he had taken her in his arms the last time and kissed her. 

Not a moment ago, she had assumed it would be relatively easy for her to hold out until he gave in. She had assumed even this compromise left her with the upper-hand. But from the way he was looking at her now...she was no longer quite so sure.


	6. The Wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne make it official.

The next week went by in a blur. Much of the wedding planning and execution was handled by Tywin Lannister in his son’s stead – which both Jaime and Brienne preferred. Neither cared much about the pomp and circumstance of it. Had they the option to marry under a tree with a handful of witnesses, it would have been more than satisfactory to both of them. 

But the Lannisters never squandered an opportunity to flash their wealth at the Kingdom and given how pleased the eldest Lannister was about his favored son continuing the family line, he was not about to let the occasion go uncelebrated. Of course, Jaime had neglected to tell his father about his agreement with Brienne. The last thing he needed was the old man taking an even greater interest in his life and marital affairs. 

Jaime also avoided telling Cersei. He had actually planned on it, if only to demonstrate his level of devotion to her. However, when he went to tell her the wedding was officially moving forward, she uncharacteristically apologized for her earlier behavior and they ended up making love. In the moment, it felt uncouth to flaunt his arrangement with Brienne in front of Cersei as a means to one-up her. 

Jaime struggled to keep up with Cersei’s strange mixed reactions to this whole affair. One moment she was throwing wine glasses at his head, the next she was apologizing with tears in her eyes looking as vulnerable as she ever had. It was all the more perplexing because he knew his sister to be a skilled liar and manipulator and although she rarely used such tactics on him, she was not above it. 

Brienne, at least, had the decency to state her terms of engagement out in the open. 

For her part, Brienne was the object of much attention over the next week, with many of the ladies of the castle offering her all manner of input and advice. Much of it was some form of recommendation on how to manipulate her groom with sex or other ‘feminine wiles’ to get various concessions from him. Brienne found these conversations tiresome and pointlessness – aside from her wedding night, her marriage would likely be chaste for some time. Moreover, she did not understand how most women had the energy to keep up these elaborate games and manipulations with their husbands. It seemed like far more trouble than it was worth. 

Much as her marriage might be a stunted one when it came to sex, she was beginning to suspect she and Jaime were better matched than most of the Lords and Ladies of Westeros, who seemed to view their marriages as fundamentally antagonistic and who often lacked basic respect for their partners. 

~*~

Brienne’s father arrived a day before the wedding, and she happily spent it with him, making up for lost time. He was pleased by the match, though more than a little surprised by it, given his previous attempts to marry her, and given who she was marrying. 

Brienne shared the story of her journey with Jaime, leaving out many of the more explicit details, but leaving in enough to explain their mutual affection. Her father’s pride at her landing such a distinguished groom pleased Brienne more than she wanted to admit. While she often flouted convention and made a point of not allowing it to rule her, she still wanted to make her father happy, and do right by her house.

Indeed, this was part of the deal Brienne had made privately with herself. She had a deadline of her own. She would hold out for three years, and if he still refused to forsake Cersei for her in that time, Brienne would let go of their deal and give them both a chance at children. She firmly believed Jaime would give in before that, and it would not be necessary for her to surrender. But as a last resort, she promised herself she would not let her father’s house die with her, her pride be damned. 

On the day of the wedding, Brienne was attended to by at least half a dozen ladies’ maids, all intent on prettifying her as much as possible. She knew it was a fool’s errand, but she let them do as they pleased, styling her hair, painting her face, and so on. They could not possibly make her look any worse than she usually did, so what was the harm? 

At least she was wholly satisfied with the dress. It was just as she had envisioned it, and she found great pleasure in wearing it despite her typical preference for men’s clothing. She like it because it wasn’t just meant to signal to everyone that she was a woman; it actually meant something to her.

She and Jaime were to be bound together in the eyes of gods and men, two souls bonded forevermore. The reality still took her breath away when she stopped for more than a moment to think about it. 

Finally, all the primping and prodding was done, and Brienne was ready to be escorted to the Sept of Baylor by her father. Before leaving her room, she chanced a glance at the mirror to see what the rest of the world was about to. 

She was pleasantly surprised by what lay before her. She still was not anything approaching beautiful in the way that Lady Margery or Lady Sansa were beautiful. But the efforts of the ladies maids had lessened the grotesqueness of her scars, enhanced her lips (both the color and shape), highlighted her eyes – easily her nicest-looking feature – and feminized her short hair by putting gold glitter in it and threading a crown of wildflowers through it. 

The dress, too, flattered her coloring and her shape, enhancing her breasts and hips. She could almost pass for a real Lady looking as she did. 

Brienne made her way to the Sept in her father’s carriage, but the journey there was a complete blur. The whole way, she found herself silently reciting the vows she would have to say when the moment came. Although she knew the vows by heart – as did everyone born and bred in the Seven Kingdoms – she feared the grandeur of the event, and the number of eyes upon her, might cause her to forget and make a fool of herself. 

Finally, they were outside the doors, which were closed, per the traditions of the ceremony. Her father knocked, and the doors opened. Although it was a good distance from the threshold to the alter, Brienne could see Jaime standing next to the High Septon, wearing a jacket of fine gold silk. 

All eyes were upon her as she walked up the aisle, and she was grateful for her father’s steadying hand. Amidst the crowd, she occasionally found a face she actually knew, but for the most part they were a blurred mass. Her eyes were fixed on Jaime. The closer she got, the more of his face she could see, and it was clear her appearance exceeded his expectations. He looked almost dumbstruck as she took her place beside him, and Brienne could not help but smile. 

Donning the cloak she had ordered as part of her outfit – white with a large golden lion head in profile baring a vivid sapphire eye at the center – Jaime took it off the moment she stood next to him and cloaked her with it. She was now, ceremonially, under his protection. 

Then the High Septon began to speak. Brienne stayed attentive enough to follow along, but her mind also became occupied by examining Jaime’s jacket. Upon close scrutiny, it was dotted throughout with small, delicately embroidered sapphires and held together in the middle by a large golden fastening shaped like a lion’s head with real sapphires for eyes. 

Although she had not coordinated this with him, he had clearly made a point of matching his clothing to hers, and she felt strangely moved by the gesture as she continued to follow along with the High Speton’s sermon in the back of her mind. 

While her nerves were quite rattled being the center of this much attention, Brienne found refuge in Jaime’s eyes, which looked at her with kindness, humor, and more than a touch of longing. She could feel the subdued hunger radiating off him, and Brienne made a small mental note to personally seek out each and every one of those ladies’ maids in the days hence to personally thank them. 

Finally, it was time for the vows. The Septon took a white ribbon and lightly bound their joined hands.

“In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity. Look upon one another and say the words.” 

Jaime and Brienne had been half facing each other for the length of the ceremony, but with these instructions, they each turned fully towards one another and said, in almost perfect unison, their unique version of the words. 

_“Father, Smith, Warrior, Maiden, Mother, Crone, Stranger. I am his and he is mine, from this day, to the end of my days.”_  
_“Father, Smith, Warrior, Maiden, Mother, Crone, Stranger. I am hers and she is mine, from this day, to the end of my days.”_

“Let it be known that Brienne of House Tarth, and Jaime of House Lannister are one heart, one flesh, one soul.” 

“With this kiss, I pledge my love,” Jaime then said, and he grabbed her face softly with his one good hand and kissed her. 

Brienne melted into it, and she could feel, when they pulled back, that their display of affection has gone on just a moment too long. As they descended the stairs together, she could sense the eyes of the whole Lannister clan – standing together in the front row – on her. Tyrion looked amused, Tywin looked self-satisfied, and Cersei looked ready to commit the second nuptial murder the Kingdom had seen in a month.

As they exited the Sept, a Lannister carriage awaited them, and they climbed in. They would share a private ride back to the Red Keep, where the feast would take place. Brienne was thankful for the small reprieve. 

They sat opposite each other and the carriage immediately lurched forward. Silence pervaded for a moment before Brienne said, “Your sister was looking daggers at me as we left.” 

“I saw. I’ll make sure she doesn’t go anywhere near your food or drink.” 

“I appreciate the thought, but I’m not sure I’ll be able to eat anything anyway. I feel as though I left my stomach back at that alter.” 

“I know what you mean. I felt mine drop out of me the second I got a good look at you. You look beautiful, by the way.”

“You exaggerate but thank you for the complement.” 

Jaime opened his mouth as if to say something and at the last second seemed to change his mind. 

“What?” Brienne asked.

“Nothing,” Jaime replied, waving his good hand dismissively as he looked out the window.

“Tell me,” Brienne said.

Although her tone was light enough, it could not be mistaken for anything but a command. 

Jaime met her eyes, and his face took on a roguish expression as he said, “I was going to say, the moment I saw you in that church I had half a mind to hike your dress up and consummate our marriage then and there.” 

Brienne felt herself blush and a pounding ache begin to throb in her abdomen. She stared at him, wordless and breathless in the wake of this pronouncement, and in a move that did not seem calculated at all, he reached across the small space between them and kissed her. 

She embraced him fully knowing good and well their carriage, with its tiny interior, and large, open windows, made the prospect of total consummation impossible. However, as their mouths mated hungrily, Brienne once again began to fear this arrangement of theirs wouldn’t hold a week. 

The pleasure she felt at holding him like this, kissing him with such abandon, letting her hands roam his body freely, was intoxicating. And the ways he touched her half made her forget her own name. It definitely made her forget where they were until the carriage came to a sudden halt and Jaime pulled away from her a split second before the footman opened the door on them. 

It was not a total embarrassment, but their dignity was slightly wounded as they each straightened their hair and clothing and exited the carriage with a visible flush in their cheeks. Luckily it was only servants who managed to bear witness to their indiscretion.

They entered the Red Keep, which was a bustle with those preparing for the feast. Knowing the castle as he did, Jaime was able to pull Brienne into a small cellar just outside the feasting hall so they could straighten themselves up a bit more before the guests arrived. They each wiped at the folds of their clothes until they hung correctly once more, and then fixed each other’s hair. 

“Are you ready?” Jaime asked, and Brienne could tell he was not referring to her appearance. 

“Yes,” Brienne replied, her tone wavering ever so slightly.

“If you can face down a bear with a wooden sword, you can face down the guests at your own wedding.” 

Brienne smiled at that but it did not fully easy the tension in her stomach. She followed him out of the cellar just as the Lannisters were making their way down the hall, with Tyrion leading the way. 

“Already taking advantage of your marital rights I see,” he said, a great deal of mirth in his voice. 

“Don’t talk filth, Tyrion,” Cersei ground out, her face every bit as murderous as it had been at the Sept. 

“We should try to keep a civil tongue at the festivities today, but they are a married couple now, and such is their right” Tywin said, looking as pleased as any of his children had ever seen him. 

Jaime quickly glimpsed Brienne’s mortified expression and leapt to correct his family’s (half) wrong impression. 

“Not that any of you care, but that’s not what was happening. We got a bit disheveled in the carriage and we simply wanted to put ourselves to rights before all the guests arrived.” 

“Either way, we should make our way to the high table,” Tywin continued. “The rest of the wedding party will be arriving momentarily.”

He ushered them all to their places, and just as they took their seats, guests began flooding the hall. Jaime poured himself and Brienne a healthy portion of wine and they each partook generously as they waited for the hall to fill. 

Soon enough all the guests were seated, and the feast was served. Despite her earlier lack of appetite, Brienne suddenly found herself quite ravenous, and ate heartily as various Lords and Ladies came up, toasted them, presented them with gifts, and wished them well. 

As the congratulations gradually died down, Brienne eventually felt the air in the hall change. Whereas before it had been lively but contained, it suddenly started to turn a bit brazen and rowdy. The comments they heard became a little more laced with innuendo as people were getting into their third or fourth cups of wine. 

Soon after that, Tyrion came up behind them and said, “Alright you two lovebirds, time to take your leave. These Lord and Ladies are practically itching to discuss their bets out in the open. You wouldn’t want to deprive them of that opportunity any longer. Off you go!”

Jaime met Brienne eyes and asked his bride, every bit the gentleman, “Are you ready to leave?”

Brienne felt paralyzed. On the one hand she dreaded this moment, even at other people’s weddings. However, she knew there was no escaping it, and the more drunk everyone got, the worse it would be. Better to leave sooner rather than later. 

She felt herself force out a silent nod and Jaime gave her a reassuring smile as he clasped her hand firmly but gently.

They kept holding hands as the rose together, and a cheer went up around the hall. Brienne could feel her face growing beet red, but she kept her eyes on Jaime and it helped give her the courage to endure the attention. 

As was the custom, he addressed the hall at large. 

“Thank you all for your congratulations and well-wishes. Please enjoy the feast and the forthcoming entertainment on behalf of myself, my family, and my new wife. If you will excuse the two of us, we would seek out our own entertainment.” 

Another raucous cheer erupted, and Brienne did her best to let it wash over her as Jaime guided her out of the hall as fast as propriety would allow. 

The moment they were alone again, making their way down a corridor to their bridal suite, Jaime let go of Brienne’s hand and looked at her to say, “I’m sorry about that. But we made it through, and you’ll never have to go through it again.” 

They were exactly the words she wanted to hear.

“Thank the gods. I’ve always hated that part of weddings, even when I wasn’t the bride.” 

“Me too, truth be told. It feels unnecessarily invasive.” 

“I agree.” 

They took the last ten or so steps to their suite in silence, and then entered and left the rest of the world behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, next chapter coming VERY soon (like tomorrow). :)


	7. The Vow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne keep their vow.

On the other side of their closed door, Brienne felt a lot less self-conscious than she had for most of the day. However, her nerves did not completely leave her, for she had made a vow – in both public and private – that she would very soon be called upon to keep. 

Thankfully, Jaime seemed in no rush as he poured them both another hearty glass of wine and served them each a slice of the wedding cake that had been left for them. Brienne did not feel much in the mood for more food or wine, but it would give them time to relax and decompress from the day, and that was reason enough. 

Jaime took off his boots, belt, outer jacket and various other extraneous pieces of clothing, leaving only his breeches and undershirt on. 

Brienne followed suit as much as she could, relieving herself of the heavy cloak and the ring of flowers in her hair. Her dress, however, was another matter. While it was beautiful, it was tight in places (particularly when seated). But it felt a bit strange to take it off and just sit there in nothing but her shift. As if he could read her mind, Jaime moved to the large wardrobe off to the side of the room and retrieved a loose dressing gown that would suit her. 

Brienne smiled as he handed it to her. 

“Thank you,” she said. 

As he began to walk away, she pulled at his arm and said, “Actually, could you help me undo the laces in the back? They are a bit hard for me to reach.” 

Jaime nodded and went to stand behind her to release the clasped ties on her dress. As he did this, she laid the dressing gown over the back of a nearby chair. However, the feeling of Jaime standing so close behind her as he went about his task soon made Brienne feel hot all over. She had her reservations about losing her virginity, as did most women. But his body heat was like a siren call to her – nearly impossible to ignore. 

As he slowly undid the line of ties along her spine, Brienne could feel slight brushes of his fingers against her back. These brief skin-to-skin touches made her dizzy. Soon he reached the final clasped tie at the small of her back and said, barely above a whisper, “Done.” 

She turned around and said, a bit sheepishly, “Thank you.” 

As she pulled her arms out of the sleeves of the gown and let it drop to the floor, Jaime held out his false hand and asked, “Could you?” 

Still standing there in only her shift, Brienne nodded, and undid the straps that affixed his gold hand to his right arm while her fingers trembled ever so slightly. When they were all loosened, she pulled gingerly on the heavy appendage and it came free of his right arm. 

She placed the prosthetic on the table and when she turned back to him, he just stood there, looking her over, almost as if he were lost in thought. Brienne met his eyes, and he reached out with his left hand as if to bring her in for a kiss, but let it drop right before he touched her. Fueled by impulse and the two glasses of wine she’d managed to put down during the feast, Brienne finished what he started and pulled him forward. 

The moment their lips touched, her already aching abdomen began to throb almost unbearably. He kissed her like a man possessed, as if he had journeyed through the desert and she was his first sip of water. Brienne stepped further into his space, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, running her hands through his hair, pulling him in as tightly as she could. 

As they continued to taste one another hungrily, she soon felt his one good hand reach up between their pressed bodies and grasp her right breast through the sheer cotton material of her shift. Unthinkingly, Brienne broke off their kiss to gasp. She stared into his eyes as she attempted to catch her breath, and she could see the rabid hunger swirling in his. 

Although his manner was controlled, she could feel the animal energy flowing between them. It was as palpable as the wind or the rain or the sunlight. And seemingly as powerful as lightening. 

Both of them wanted to believe, as they frantically resumed their embrace, that they were not fully subject to its power and that they were still acting on noble pursuits – obligations to family, holy oaths of marriage, the honor of their houses. They also wanted to believe they had some kind of control, that they could tame their feelings into submission for the sake of pride, or loyalty. 

But as they jointly stumbled towards the bed, slightly drunk on the wine and out of their minds on desire, each of them could feel just how precarious their bargain was – on both ends. Feather light touches along Brienne’s back and across Jaime’s forearm and the two of them forgot their poured wine, their wedding cakes, their intention to take things slow, Brienne’s finely made gown gathering dirt on the floor. 

It felt to Brienne, as she melted into the soft mattress on her back while Jaime kneeled above her, as if anything not physically touching them at that moment simply did not exist. They were the gravity that kept what was real in the world affixed to existence. And what was real to them at that moment were exactly three things: their remaining clothes, the bed, and each other. 

Jaime licked and bit softly at her neck and Brienne felt her legs encircle his hips and bring their lower bodies firmly together. She could feel his erection against her abdomen and another wave of heat washed over her as everything in her body urged her to get closer to him, to every part of him, urgently. 

They humped aggressively through the two thin layers of fabric that kept them apart, as Brienne pulled up on Jaime’s shirt. It was an inelegant struggle in their jointly aroused state, but she eventually managed to discard it and move on to his last bit of clothing. 

However, she only began to pluck at the laces on his breeches before he pulled away slightly and, in a shaking, raw voice, said, “Don’t. I’ll come if you touch me like this.” 

He sounded like he was in agony, and it only heightened Brienne’s arousal to realize she had that kind of effect on him. He struggled a bit to untie the laces with his left hand as he lay to one side of her on his hip. However, eventually they came undone and Brienne took the liberty of releasing Jaime from them, as two hands were definitely better than one for such a task. 

She watched his erection emerge, bright pink and lying fully upright against his stomach. She wanted desperately to touch it and reached out to do so, but at the last second, she pulled her hand away, remembering what he had said to her. 

Instead she pulled his head back towards hers and resumed their kiss. Now her shift was the only thing keeping them apart and Jaime soon started in on that final barrier. However, as his good hand reached under the length of the garment, he did not bother to bring it up over her head but instead merely moved it to the juncture of her legs. 

Before Brienne could stop herself, she felt her hips lean into his searching touch, and two of his fingers made their way past the triangle of curls to the slick skin underneath. 

“Seven hells, you are wet!” Jaime said, half stuttering the words in a tone of genuine shock. 

Brienne wanted to say something in return, but the moment his fingers began stroking her there, she became a sputtering mess of sighs and guttural sounds. He teased her mercilessly, watching her as she writhed on the bed under his practiced touch. 

However, just on the edge of her precipice, she managed to snatch his hand away and bring it back up to her breast. Giving no protest, Jaime instead squeezed the flesh there roughly a few times, and thumbed at the erect nipple visible through the thin fabric. 

He then bent his head down and began suckling at it through the fine material. Brienne’s hips made another desperate plea in response and Jaime moved back on top of her, kneeling between her legs as he kept up his oral assault on her breast. 

As he did this, he began to pull up, inch by inch, the hem of her shift, bringing it up to her waist, so her lower body was fully exposed. She prepared for him to enter her with no small amount of anticipation, when instead he did something the shocked her out of her aroused stupor. 

Her shift had a V-neck collar that met just above the juncture of her breasts. Putting his teeth firmly along one side as he grabbed the other side with his hand, Jaime aggressively ripped the neckline open several more inches exposing both her breasts in the process. 

The expression he wore, looking down on her like she could not be more alluring if she tried, left Brienne utterly wrecked. Without further ado, she grabbed his hips and pulled them right up against the very core of her - swollen, wet, and ready. 

Jaime leaned down and sucked at the side of her neck as he took his good hand and guided his erection into her opening. He fully thrust twice before he stopped, visibly shaking all over to ask, “Are you okay? Any pain?”

Brienne had felt a small sharp sensation when he first entered her, but it faded almost instantly in favor of the pulsing ache that still somehow seemed to be growing. 

Grabbing his head, Brienne looked him square in the eyes as she said, with quite desperation, “No. Please don’t stop, Jaime, please...” 

Something in him seemed to snap at her plea and his hips then moved against her with a frenzy that matched her own level of rutting, aching _need_. They pushed against each other with all of their considerable strength and endurance, sweating and heaving with abandon, letting their bodies have free reign at last. 

For a short while, all that could be heard were the grunts and sighs of the two warriors as they rode their desire like a series of crashing waves. But in his particular desperation to come last, Jaime started talking in her ear. 

“I...have wanted...you like this...since that bath...at Harrenhal. Even when I was...out of my mind...with pain...I wanted to fuck you. Brienne...you make me feel...like every part of me...is on fire.” 

His words somehow touched the part of her brain that was holding back her release, and let it flow. Her legs buckled around his hips aggressively as she clawed her fingers along his back, her hips grinding in a circular motion utterly of their own accord. 

Instead of a scream or sigh, Brienne impulsively bit into Jaime’s shoulder as she reached her climax. Not enough to draw blood, but enough to leave a mark and immediately send his body over the threshold just behind her. 

Long after her hips quieted, Jaime’s continued to thrust in a series of aftershocks that made his body quake. His release had felt absurdly large and his body could not seem to quiet from the avalanche of pleasure it had given him. 

Eventually, eventually, the pulses stopped, and Jaime felt obliged to disentangle himself from his newly deflowered bride. Even if she was big enough not to be crushed by him, the heat and sweat was no doubt getting to her. 

Jaime rolled off her and onto his back, so they were now both laying lengthwise along the bed looking at the canopy. 

Brienne let herself float in the afterglow for a short time, but as soon as she glimpsed Jaime’s face, she was brought crashing back to reality. He looked frustrated, almost angry.

With her guard still quite low, Brienne simply asked, “Are you angry with me?” 

“No,” was his reply, in a tone that was painfully unconvincing. 

“Yes, you are. Why? Did I do something wrong?” 

He let out a dark chuckle and shook his head. 

“I’m not angry with you, I’m angry with me.” 

“Why?” 

“I didn’t mean for it to happen like that. I didn’t mean to...get so caught up in it.” 

He said it almost to himself, and Brienne considered him for a long moment. 

“You feel you wasted your chance, is that it?”

“I don’t know if I would say it was wasted but I... wanted to savor it a bit more than I did.” 

Brienne was not cynical by nature, and despite his reputation as _the kingslayer_, she considered him fundamentally a man of honor. Although it could be a play designed to get more from her than they originally bargained, it did not feel to her like Jaime was trying to manipulate her by telling her this. It felt honest and without expectation. 

So Brienne decided to take a bit of pity on him and give them both a gift. It was their wedding night, after all. 

She reached across their bodies and pulled his face towards hers, both of them still lying flat on their backs on the bed. She looked deeply into his eyes for an extended moment, then kissed him softly. He seemed mildly surprised by the gesture. 

“Very well, since it is our wedding night, you get one more without condition.” 

The smile that lit up his face as she said this told her, in no uncertain terms, that he had not been angling for this outcome. He seemed too earnestly pleased to have been expecting it. 

“However,” Brienne said, as she swiftly sat up and put her torn shift back into place, “first I’d like some more wine and some of that wedding cake.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the lovely comments and encouragement. I'm so happy you are enjoying this fic so far!


	8. The Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne keep and break their promises.

Brienne rose from the bed and walked toward the table. She retrieved the abandoned dressing gown and put it over her torn shift before she sat down to enjoy the last of their wedding spoils. Seated with her back to the bed, she heard rather than saw Jaime rise from it and redress himself. 

Two bites into her slice of cake, he sat down beside her and pulled his own abandoned piece towards himself. For a moment they chewed in a silence that was not wholly awkward or comfortable, but something in between. 

Brienne decided to break it. 

“So, how do you suppose all the betting is going?” 

She caught Jaime just as he was taking a sip of wine and her question put him into a small coughing fit. When it finally quieted, he replied, “I was trying not to think about it. But I suspect most of them are taking the under-a-year bet.”

“Why?” 

“They saw the two of us kiss in the Sept. It was not exactly...understated.” 

Brienne felt herself blush slightly at the memory and took a long sip of wine.

“We’re probably going to make a lot of them losers.” 

“Probably.”

They fell into another silence, this one a bit more contemplative. At the time that they had made their little agreement, it had felt very important to Brienne for the sake of her dignity. Now it felt...small and a bit silly. 

However, she also could not quite bring herself to rescind it. The idea of giving in so quickly made her feel weak – another blow to her dignity. Quite the cobweb of emotions they had laid for themselves. 

Lost in that tangle of thoughts, Brienne soon found herself with an empty plate, so she focused on the glass of wine that remained half full. As she casually sipped the potent beverage, she sat back and watched Jaime continue to eat. He had gotten much more adept at dinning solely with his left hand, but she could tell he still struggled with it slightly. 

“So what do you think?” she asked.

“Of what?”

“The cake.” 

Jaime shrugged. 

“It’s fine. My father likes dark chocolate. I prefer something a little sweeter.” 

Somehow Brienne wasn’t surprised to find out that the cake, like most aspects of their wedding, had been Tywin Lannister’s doing. 

“Do you always let him have his way?” 

“No. How do you think I ended up in the Kingsguard?” 

“You were giving Cersei her way, I presume.” 

Brienne’s tone was offhand, but the look Jaime gave her as the words left her mouth told her she had moved into delicate terrain. 

“What makes you think I was giving her her way, and not having it my way?” 

“Were you?” 

Jaime looked ready to fight with her. Had they been holding swords, she would have raised hers defensively. Yet at the last second, he looked away, deflated. 

“I don’t know.” 

He paused for a long moment as if debating whether or not to continue. 

“When you love someone like that, their happiness becomes so entangled with your own that those kinds of questions stop making sense.” 

Jaime’s better judgement had urged him to keep silent on the matter, yet a defiant part of him felt the need to prove to Brienne – and himself – that the discomfort they were promising one another in the weeks and months to come was built on something worthy. 

Brienne was unsure how she felt about his answer. On the one hand, she hated having his affection for Cersei flung in her face. On the other hand, she had waded into that fraught subject willingly and invited him to comment on it. It was a bit unfair to resent him for being honest. 

They each continued to sip their wine as they sought a way back from the negative emotional tension that had thrown a rather dark cloud over their intended finale for the evening. How had something that had felt as natural as breathing not long ago suddenly come to feel like a dance to which neither knew the steps?

Finally, when Jaime downed the last dregs of wine in his glass, he placed the goblet back on the table with emphasis and rose to purposefully blow out all the candles. Brienne followed his lead and stood to relieve herself of her dressing gown just before she slid under the bedcovers. 

She stayed distinctly to one side, staring up at the canopy as she watched Jaime finish his task from the corner of her eye. He then slid into the bed beside her, seemingly making a point not to touch her. 

They lay in the dark silence for a stretch of time that could have been minutes or hours, each avoiding each other’s gaze as they stared at the draped swathes of fabric overhead. 

Finally, in a regretful undertone, he said “I am sorry for ruining it.” 

“Me too,” Brienne replied. 

She then rolled over, and faced the wall, determined not to look at him. After a moment, she heard – and felt – him do the same. 

~*~

Brienne’s exhaustion from the day’s events put her under quite quickly. She came to in the early hours of the morning, just before sunrise, only to discover she had rolled onto her back in the night and Jaime had somehow entangled himself with her while they both slept. 

She found his left leg sprawled between both of hers while his left arm had brazenly taken up residence across her stomach. Brienne strongly considered unceremoniously evicting him from her personal space, but then she gave one look at his sleeping face, only a few inches from her own, and reconsidered. 

He was even beautiful when he slept, and she wanted a chance to soak it in while he was still unconscious. Brienne watched him breathe rhythmically and the heat from his body pulled her slowly back into an aroused state. 

She was still undecided as to what to do about their _situation_ when he stirred and opened his eyes to see her looking at him. They starred at each other the way animals do when they take each other by surprise, afraid to make any sudden movements. 

Eventually, Jaime’s hand stirred ever so slightly and began to move slowly up Brienne’s stomach to where the tear in her shift left her skin exposed. Still staring at one another in the taut silence, Jaime let his hand gingerly wander into the rip and softly massage the skin just under her breasts. 

He seemed to be testing the waters, and Brienne found she did not have the strength to put a stop to it as the familiar ache at the juncture of her legs throbbed with greater intensity. 

Jaime then moved to kiss her just as he pulled his hand up to cup her breast and Brienne felt her arms reach up to embrace him in return. In an instant they were both wide awake and not gentle as their mouths met and tasted one another. They savored it and searched for more. 

Soon their clothing became unbearable, and they each took turns tearing violently at what was keeping them from one another. Jaime went first and managed to complete what he started the prior evening, ripping Brienne’s shift the rest of the way open until it left her totally exposed. 

Frantically, and without a thought to her new nakedness, Brienne pulled up on his shirt, brought it over his head, and threw it as far as she could across the room. However, his breeches were another story. He had re-laced them last night and the tangled mess was more than she had the patience for. She pulled at the juncture where the fabric joined along the line of ties and the violent ripping sound gave voice to their lust, which was at a fever pitch and growing. 

The moment his pants were loose, Jaime aggressively kicked them off and Brienne could not stop herself from staring at his reddening erection. On impulse, she leaned her head down and took it in her mouth – what of it she could fit. 

“Fuck!” Jaime half screamed, half sighed. 

As she continued her efforts, licking and sucking by turns, Jaime let out guttural sounds somewhere between pleasure and pain that sent shocks of arousal through her. He allowed it to continue for a brief time before he grabbed hold of the headboard behind him and pulled himself away from her into a partial sitting position up against the head of the bed. 

Brienne followed in his wake, kneeling over both his legs, her shift still hanging wide open off her shoulders and covering none of her. Jaime massaged her right breast firmly as Brienne took hold of the lattice woodwork on either side of Jaime’s head and pulled herself firmly up against the whole of his torso. 

They stared into each other’s eyes for a beat, and the mix of desire, aggression and stewing resentment only seemed to edge them more quickly and emphatically towards oblivion. Every minute action, every small taste of pleasure, had a warning attached – _enjoy this for you will soon be without it._

Brienne might as well have said the words out loud to Jaime as she took hold of his cock and guided it urgently into her aching swollen flesh. The second he was inside her, Jaime wrapped his arms around her waist and did his best to bring her even closer, clawing at her back with his one good hand as he put his mouth at the place where her neck and shoulder met and sucked. 

Brienne’s hips rode him without reservation, and she braced herself against the headboard, letting her muscular arms do much of the work. The position gave her better leverage to thrust against him, and she took advantage of it to the point where the whole bedframe began to sway along with their rutting. 

Jaime had an errant thought that they should stop before they broke the bed. However, that thought lived for a mere second before he quashed it like a bug. Fuck the bed. For that matter, fuck the whole of the Red Keep. Let it fall to dust around them, as long as she kept riding his cock like that, Jaime would have been perfectly happy to see the whole of King’s Landing reduced to ruin. 

He was in agony, every inch of him covered in sweat, and more aroused than he ever remembered feeling in his life. Yet he was determined, even more so than last time, not to give in first. 

Every inch of Brienne was flushed and she almost seemed possessed as she continued to inch them both toward release. Soon enough, she began to convulse erratically, and Jaime could tell she was on the edge. 

Instinctively he leaned forward and bent his head to bring her right nipple into his mouth, sucking with abandon as her legs clamped around his hips like a vice. Her scream came first, then a split second later, the fractured wood as the headboard cracked under Brienne’s continued assault. 

The sound of it pushed Jaime over the edge and he came inside her as he listened to the frame come apart behind them. He couldn’t remember the last time he heard a sound that beautiful.

~*~

They were fortunate, Jaime realized a brief time later, that the whole frame did not collapse around them. That would have been unpleasant. Luckily, the bed could hold its shape without an intact headboard which gave Jaime and Brienne ample opportunity to recover from their unexpected and intense interlude. 

First, they caught their breath which took more time than expected. Then Brienne disentangled their bodies, swinging her left leg back to her side, as she fell down on her back. Jaime leaned back on his elbows and waited for his heartbeat to fully quiet. 

When it did, he said, “Thank you...for that.” 

He looked at her then, and her face was unreadable. She did not seem angry, but definitely distant. Her arms covered her stomach as she continued to look emphatically at the drapes above. 

Finally, she spoke. 

“That was the last time...until—”

“Yes, I remember the deal,” Jaime said, not bothering to hide the resentment in his voice as he rose and began to redress. 

The air in the room was heavy with the still-lingering echoes of their heated passion and the icy walls they were busy erecting on top of their achingly fresh memories of what it was like to touch one other. It was not awkward or congenial, easy or uncomfortable. It was resigned, dutiful. 

They efficiently redressed themselves, and Jaime sent for breakfast as Brienne cleared away the evidence of the night before – their wine glasses, empty plates, her wreath of withered flowers, the wedding dress.

They had so absorbed themselves in these menial tasks, they managed to forget about the broken headboard, at least until the servants brought in their breakfast and caught an ostentatious glimpse of it. They were discrete enough not to say anything, and neither Brienne nor Jaime felt compelled to make it an issue with them. 

They both knew a request for discretion would bring more attention to it and would likely be pointless. There was nothing servants treasured more than gossip. They would be leaving the Red Keep soon enough anyway, so what did it matter what people said about them in their absence?

They ate in relative silence, exchanging a few very banal pleasantries about the food while trying desperately not to think about how the other’s body tasted. Just as they were finishing up, Jaime received a summons from his father asking to see him in his office at once, as well as a request that both he and Brienne attend a luncheon later that day with Tywin, Cersei, and Brienne’s father. 

They agreed to the luncheon, and then Jaime made haste to his father’s office as requested, if only to get away from Brienne. Being alone with her in the same room suddenly felt like a mild form of torture. 

When he arrived, his father greeted him congenially from behind his desk and asked if he wanted anything. This would have been normal behavior, if Jaime’s father were normal. Instead, it was downright off-putting. 

“I am fine,” Jaime assured him. “Can we please just get to why you have summoned me here?”

Tywin squinted at his son’s gruff tone and continued. 

“Very well. I wish to have a frank conversation with you about your marriage. While I, of course, felt no need to participate in the absurd betting pool surrounding your first born, I would like your assurances before you two leave for Casterly Rock that you will put forth every effort to have a child by Brienne as soon as possible.” 

Jaime felt both shock that his father would say such a thing to him so bluntly, and disappointment in himself for being shocked. In truth, it was perfectly in character, and Jaime was a fool to have expected anything else. 

“And what exactly do you intend to do if I decide to put only a modicum of effort into having a child by Brienne as soon as possible?”

Jaime knew that sassing his father was unlikely to lead to a good outcome, but he could not help himself. The allure was too strong. He also needed a bit more time to decide what to say when his father pressed him for a real answer. Despite the fact that he was quite well versed at lying to the old man about his sexual exploits, this felt different somehow – the lie had an entirely different weight to it. 

“I did you a service by asking to see you alone, rather than bringing your new bride into this conversation as well. But believe me, I am happy to summon her and ask her all manner of intimate questions if you are really in the mood to play games with me.”

Jaime stared resentfully at his father in silence, and finally replied, “Please leave Brienne out of this. She doesn’t deserve to be interrogated about her fertility or our marital affairs.” 

“Very well, I will do as you ask if you will do as I ask and assure me that you intend to do everything possible to ensure a Lannister heir is born within the year.”

“Fine. I will do everything in my power to ensure a Lannister heir is born within the year. May I please go now?”

“Thank you. That wasn’t so hard, was it? After all, from the report I received this morning, your wedding night exploits resulted in a broken bedframe. What I am asking of you is clearly not any kind of burden.” 

Jaime felt his face redden with both shame and anger. Shame that his father knew about the bed and the reason for it, and anger that his father had employed servant-spies to observe and report on evidence of his wedding night exploits. The man truly had no boundaries when something he wanted was on the line. 

Jaime rose and leaned over his father’s desk, enough that Tywin stopped what he was doing to look Jaime square in the face. 

“You have my word that I will do everything in my power to get my wife with child as soon as possible. However, if you breathe even a word of any of this conversation to Brienne or attempt to raise this issue with her in any way, I will put off giving you what you want out of pure spite. Do we understand one another?”

To Jaime’s surprise, Tywin did not look angry about his threat; if anything, he looked mildly impressed. 

“We do...understand one another.” 

Jaime straightened up. 

“Very well. Unless there is anything else, I have things I should like to attend to before our luncheon at midday.” 

Tywin waved his hand dismissively, and Jaime left in a hurry, desperate to see the one member of his immediate family who would not make him feel worse about his situation with Brienne.


	9. The Irony

Jaime made haste to Tyrion’s chambers and was relieved to find him already drinking, despite the hour. The moment he entered Tyrion raised his glass to Jaime as if in triumph. 

“Hail, the Bed Slayer!”

Jaime felt his insides sink. If Tyrion knew that meant most of the Keep probably knew. Cersei was going to be hellish. 

“Please, if you have any affection for me at all, do NOT start calling me that.”

Jaime sat himself at the table next to his brother, poured himself a large drink, and downed most of it in one gulp. Tyrion’s expression shifted from impish amusement to sincere concern. 

“Don’t tell me your wedding night was a disappointment, after all that.” 

Jaime gazed into his glass, downed the last gulp in his cup, and swiftly moved to pour himself another. 

“No, just the opposite. It was...better than I imagined it would be. But now I know what I am missing, and I can already tell we are going to drive one another to madness over this.” 

“Just so I am perfectly clear, your situation is thus – the two of you have sincere affection for one another bordering on actual love and you are so sexually compatible that you managed to break the bed your first night together. Yet, you have mutually decided to maintain some kind of perverse chastity with one another for what reason, again?”

“Brienne does not wish to share a bed with me while I share the bed of another.” 

“So Cersei. _Cersei_ is the thing stopping you two fools from having as much of each other as you want. I hoped never to have to ask you this question but, is she really that good?”

“It’s not about the sex. Cersei is not as hardhearted as she seems to you. And we have been..._with_ each other for twenty years. I may feel a certain pull towards Brienne at this moment, but for all I know, it will fade after a week together, and I will have pledged a faith to Brienne that is not built to endure. I know my bond with Cersei is durable. Not to mention I made that promise first.” 

“See this is the problem with being noble – it paints you into corners that would otherwise not exist. You do realize you can simply lie to one or both of them, right? This would be a painfully easy situation to resolve if you were not so hung up on trying to soothe your wounded honor.” 

Jaime looked at his brother contemplatively for a moment before continuing. 

“It’s ironic. Everyone acts like you are the odd man out in our family. But the truth is, you, Cersei and father all have your streaks of...opportunism. Yours may not be as pronounced as theirs, but I am the only one of us who would let a little thing like honor or vows stop me from having something I want.” 

“So you are saying you are better than the rest of us,” Tyrion quipped in a flippant tone that verged on earnest. 

“No, I am saying I care, and the rest of you do not. Whether that makes me better than you or just more foolish, I truly could not say.” 

“There is no reason both could not be true at the same time.”

“I supposed, but as fascinating as all this philosophizing is, none of it helps me with my current predicament.” 

“I don’t mean to be a downer, but aside from lying, there is only one answer to your current predicament, and it already resides in your hand.” 

Jaime looked down at his half-full goblet, let out a resigned chuckle and took another hearty drink. 

The two men sat in contemplative silence for a long moment, then Tyrion asked, “Was it really that good?” 

Jaime sighed, and looked off into space as he considered his brother’s question intently. Finally, he answered, in a tone laced with sadness, “Yes.” 

“Would it offend your honor to kiss and tell?” 

Jaime shared some of his experience in very broad strokes, continuing to keep pace with his brother’s drinking all the while and he soon found himself in a verbal meditation on the differences in what he felt towards Brienne and Cersei. 

“It is strange,” he slurred ever so slightly. “Twas often with Cersei that I wanted to say yes, but I always felt that it was my choice to let the desire take me or not. Even when it felt strong, it still felt like I had the power. With Brienne it is as if everything in my body says yes for me, and I must put in an extraordinary effort to say no. With her I don’t start off with a choice, I start off with an answer that I have to fight against. I’ve never experienced that before.” 

Jaime paused for moment and then inquired, “Have you?”

Tyrion put in a short moment of silent contemplation and replied, “I don’t think so, no. Obviously I have desired a great many women in my time, but even the ones I...cared for shall we say, I never felt for them what you seem to be describing to me. Maybe it is a certain kind of passion that only comes with a certain kind of love.” 

“Perhaps, although I don’t know how that helps me.”

“Brother, I don’t know that there is any help for you. Other than to realize this isn’t the competition you think it is.” 

Jaime was about to ask what Tyrion meant by that when he heard the bells toll midday, and realized he was tardy for luncheon with his father, father-in-law, new bride, and sister. 

“Shit! I must go. I am late.”

“Good luck with father and our sister. I can only imagine the rage she must have spent the morning in when she heard about the bed.” 

“Don’t remind me,” Jaime shot back as he bolted toward the door. 

He made his way swiftly to the veranda where his father had requested his presence, feeling the power of the drink making him slightly unbalanced on his feet. He should not have gotten so far into the bottle so early in the day he thought to himself as he mentally prepared for what was ahead. 

He arrived to find all of the invited guests seated around the table, clearly awaiting his presence to begin the meal. Tywin had taken the liberty of sitting at the head of the table, with the Evanstar on one side of him, and Cersei on the other. Brienne was seated next to her father, and Jaime could see his place has been set next to Cersei and across from his wife. 

“Jaime, so glad you could join us,” Tywin said curtly, as Jaime hurriedly took his designated seat.

“My apologies to everyone. I lost track of the hour.” 

Jaime did not feel that bringing Tyrion into the situation – if only by name – would improve it considerably, so he simply left it at that and settled into his place with as little fanfare as possible. As he did so, both Cersei and Brienne gave him looks that made him feel roughly as comfortable as he had felt while chained to the post in the Stark war camp covered in his own shit. 

Everyone began eating the moment Jaime sat down and Tywin and Selwyn immediately resumed the conversation they had clearly started before Jaime’s inauspicious arrival. Something to do with trading treaties. Jaime did not particularly care to inject himself into his father’s political dealings and he tuned it out as he made fairly quick work of the pigeon pie before him. 

He avoided Cersei’s gaze completely, but every so often he made eye contact with Brienne and found the experience rather inscrutable. She did not seem angry with him per se, but there was a coldness and a distance to her gaze that unsettled Jaime. He could feel that a fight with Cersei was on the horizon and his impulse was simply to ignore that reality while they were in broader company. 

After the savory pies had left the table and they were graced with berry tarts for dessert, the conversation somehow moved to Brienne’s former suitors. Her father seemed to relish sharing the tales of the prospective grooms Brienne had literally fought off in her younger days. 

Brienne appeared mildly chagrined by these tales, but her father’s tone of affection seemed to stave off downright embarrassment. 

“Lord Selwyn, I must express my surprise that these stories seem only to amuse you,” Tywin said, as the third suitor’s tale came to a close. “Were you not worried for the future of your house?”

A fleeting look of anguish crossed the older man’s face, and Jaime could see it had been a point of consequence to him before now, even if it seemed resolved in the present. 

“I was. In truth I had resigned myself to seeing the end of lineage. But when my daughter told me she was to be wed, I knew a peace I have not known in many years. I could not imagine she would say yes to a marriage unless it was one of the heart.” 

In response to this, Jaime and Brienne shared a look flush with affection, longing, and sadness that nearly made Jaime forget there were other people in the room. 

At least until Selwyn boomed jovially, “There, see what I mean.” 

“Yes, I do,” Tywin said in an undertone that had just the slightest air of calculation to it. 

For some reason, this goaded Cersei into asking, “Forgive me, Lord Selwyn, I know it is a bit uncouth to speak of such things. But did you by chance place a bet in the first-born pool?” 

While Jaime was horrified into temporary silence by Cersei’s question, the Evanstar simply chuckled a bit and replied, “I am afraid not. I am not a betting man by nature. And it seemed a bit too much like tempting fate.”

“But if you were to place a bet, would you take the over or the under?” 

“Please feel free to ignore my sister, Lord Selwyn, I think she has perhaps had a bit too much wine with her lunch,” Jaime ground out, giving Cersei a look of mixed anger and mortification. 

“The under, your Grace” Lord Selwyn replied confidently, as if he had not heard Jaime’s deflection. 

“Yes, from what I hear, that is the popular bet,” Cersei replied, knowingly, also ignoring Jaime’s attempt to silence her. 

She looked ready to continue this line of conversation until Jaime shot a look to his father that implored intervention. 

“Much as I enjoy the thought of a new Lannister gracing us this year,” Tywin interjected, “we must let it be as the Gods will it. Not as men will it.” 

Jaime had largely been avoiding Brienne’s eyeline during this exchange, but in the wake of his father’s words, he could not stop himself from making eye contact with her. He could see the irony had not escaped her either; she almost looked chagrined. 

Although Jaime could not imagine his father had done it intentionally, he had somehow managed to make their arrangement seem like it was a violation of some kind of divine edict. As if the two of them refusing to give into their lust was a slap in the face to the gods themselves. 

Jaime hated how much joy he was able to wrangle from that thought. 

~*~ 

They continued drinking and talking for the better part of an hour, with most of the conversation lead by Tywin and directed at Brienne’s father. It was pretty clear to everyone involved that the eldest Lannister was sizing up the benefit of this new alliance with the house of Tarth, finding out what new assets he had by virtue of association. 

The whole thing felt almost as crass to Jaime as the earlier conversation about his and Brienne’s future children. But not quite as crass, so he did not protest. Soon enough, Lord Selwyn would be on a boat back to the Isle of Tarth, and this would all just be a slightly uncomfortable memory.

Finally, his father begged off, claiming duty to his office – Hand of the King and all – and they were left to their own devices. Jaime had planned to actually spend the afternoon with Brienne but given her father’s planned departure on the following day, she elected to walk about the gardens with him in private to make the most of the time they had left on this visit. 

As father and daughter stood to take their leave, Jaime reached for Brienne’s hand and kissed it on instinct. The action had not been planned, and they both seemed a bit taken aback by it. But Jaime found he did not regret it, for the look on her face seemed appreciative, and pleasantly surprised. 

For a brief moment it was as if their quarrel did not exist, only their affection. Jaime smiled a sincere smile at her and she smiled one back as she took her father’s arm and walked away.

Jaime watched her leave until she was far enough away that she looked roughly the size of his thumb. Then he returned to his seat, poured himself another big goblet of wine and made proper eye contact with Cersei for the first time that day. 

She was smiling, but it was a smile like a cat who had cornered a mouse. 

“That was quite sweet, dear brother. Who knew you had so much love for your new wife?”

Jaime narrowed his eyes at her and replied, more aggressively than he had intended, “What do you care?”

At that Cersei threw her glass against one of the pillars across from her and managed to hit it dead center. The glass shattered dramatically, but Jaime was not as moved by her theatrics as he once would have been. 

“I thought you married her to console me” Cersei ground out, her lips barely moving. “Because how on earth could anyone actually want that ugly cow of a woman? But you do. You really do.”

She paused briefly before she laid her full hand on the table

“I heard about the bed.” 

“I figured you would,” Jaime replied, his tone deliberately nonchalant. 

“Something is actually wrong with you. What on earth could make you desire a woman like that?”

Although he had not meant to, Jaime actually had to let out a small laugh. 

“You do grasp the irony of that question, right? Most people would say the same thing about me fucking you.” 

“Don’t you dare compare me to her!” 

“Why? Are you afraid you will come out of it looking the lesser?” 

“Fuck you!” 

“No, she won’t.” 

Cersei blinked and confusion permeated her whole face as she begged clarification. 

“Brienne only agreed to marry me on one condition – save for our wedding night, she refuses to share my bed while you and I remain lovers.” 

“You agreed to that?” 

“Yes. But I am still not entirely sure I got the better end of the deal.”

He looked at her meaningfully. 

“Care to persuade me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Looking ahead, there's going to be a lot more Jaime/Brienne alone-time. It's going to be deliciously agonizing for our protagonists, I promise. :)


	10. The Stalemate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne settle into their new status.

Jaime took some comfort in the fact that his afternoon turned out as it did. While he and Cersei did not break any beds, they shared an extremely enjoyable few hours together that made his agreement with Brienne seem not so daunting. 

It still weighed on Jaime’s mind, but lightly. And with some distance from her, he was beginning to think perhaps he had exaggerated what they had shared. It could not possibly have been as good as he had built up in his head. 

As he made his way back to their rooms at dusk, he felt a world away from where he had been with her this morning. He almost felt nonchalant about their agreement. He still would rather it not exist, but it was not the burden it seemed when he got out of bed this morning. 

It was an unfortunate annoyance and nothing more. 

When he entered, Brienne was there, sitting at the table alone sipping a glass of wine. As he stepped inside and closed the door, she looked him over and seemed to deduce how his afternoon had gone. Her response was to make a mildly disgusted face and continued drinking. 

“Well hello to you, too,” Jaime said, his voice a bit more aggressive than he had intended. “How was your afternoon with your father?”

“We really don’t need to exchange pleasantries,” she replied, the wine glass verging on her lips as she spoke. 

“Well without the sex or the pleasantries, what exactly is there left here to have a marriage with?” 

“Wine.” 

Jaime chuckled in spite of himself. 

“You sound like my brother.” 

He took a seat and poured himself a glass. 

“You know, I never actually bothered to ask – did he kill your...nephew?”

“No. He didn’t. But unfortunately he lacks the proof that would spare him a life at The Wall.” 

“And so here I sit, the perverse benefactor of his unprovable innocence.” 

She said it half to herself, but Jaime felt compelled to respond anyway. 

“Are you? At this point, I am not entirely sure what you are getting out of this arrangement.” 

“At this point, neither am I.” 

They met each other’s gazes and it was a silent duel of looks. Eventually, Jaime broke their stalemate. It was making his heartbeat rise and his skin prickle. 

The tension in the room mounted. It was not entirely angry, or lustful, but something in between.

“I feel compelled to remind you,” Jaime said, staring intently at the glass in his hand, “that this farce is your doing. And you could undo it at any moment you choose.” 

“I feel compelled to remind you that you could have married any eligible woman in the whole of the Seven Kingdoms and been able to keep whatever other company you like in the meantime. You agreed to this when you had a thousand other easier, prettier options at your disposal.” 

“Yes, and I’m quite regretting not availing myself of one of those other options at this moment.” 

Brienne flinched, almost as if he had struck her, and Jaime felt his anger melt away in an instant. 

“I apologize. That was cruel and untrue. I don’t regret this, even with things being...how they are.” 

Brienne let his apology hang in the air for a long moment before responding, softly, “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why don’t you regret it?”

“Because, for some utterly incomprehensible reason, I like you.” 

Brienne smiled sadly at him and then they each took another long sip of wine. Finally, she ended the silence.

“This is going to be awful, isn’t it?” 

Jaime’s voice broke ever so slightly as he whispered, “Yes.” 

They ate supper together and talked of nothing of consequence. 

Eventually, the subject of Casterly Rock arose and Jaime felt compelled to ask, “When do you suppose we ought to leave for my ancestral home?” 

“I rather think the sooner the better. I have never liked King’s Landing and I get the sense that your father is quite anxious to see you in your rightful place as its warden.” 

“You aren’t wrong about that. Although I am not entirely sure why. He says he does not want to be responsible for it anymore, that he is too busy being Hand of the King. But I guarantee you, the moment I move a favorite tapestry from the east wing to the west, he will be sending me ravens and messengers to tell me I am doing everything wrong.” 

Brienne let out a laugh in spite of herself, and Jaime could not help the small flame that sparked inside him as she did. The sound was almost magic. 

“You laugh now, but I assure you, we will not be there one full day before the ravens start coming.”

“I don’t doubt it. Given his role in planning our wedding, I half expected him to travel there with us and instruct the servants on how to unpack our clothes.” 

It was Jaime’s turn to laugh. He did not want to be charmed by her, but he could almost see his father barking at some poor unfortunate maid whose only mistake was to hang Brienne’s dressing gown in the closet rather than folding it in the chest of drawers. 

“Fortunately, it’s far enough away that I don’t believe he will actually attempt anything of the sort...tempted though he will no doubt be.” 

“How long do you suppose it will take to get there?”

“Just a man on horseback can do it in about 12 days. But with a full caravan, my guess will be a little over two weeks.” 

A comfortable silence descended, and they sat it in for a moment before Brienne continued.

“Do you plan to make a lot of changes once you are the new master of the house?”

“I don’t really have a plan. There are definitely a few small things I suspect I’ll adjust to my liking once we are there. But I don’t have a strong need to remake it in my own image.”

“What do you want to change?” 

They continued their conversation into the night, talking of Casterly Rock and their impending travels, and doing their best to avoid surrendering to their tiredness and the thought of the bed they would have to share again that night. 

Eventually, however, Jaime could stand it no more and he rose to undress himself for sleep. Brienne busied herself blowing out candles as he did this, anxious not to see him that way. 

She then followed his lead and removed much of her outer clothing, leaving only her breeches and undershirt on as she got into the side of the bed she slept on the night before. After removing his final burden, the golden hand he had earned defending Brienne’s honor, Jaime made his way to the bed and slid into his side. 

The two stared up at the canopy, both reliving their memories of the night before, each fearing they had not made the most of it while they had the chance. The silence grew louder with each passing moment, until Jaime felt uncomfortable enough to break it. 

“Once we are at Casterly Rock, I will make sure our suite has two separate bedrooms.” 

Even as Brienne knew such an arrangement would make their lives easier, something in her rebelled at the thought, something desperate to see her fail. 

“Probably a good idea,” she replied, resenting every word as it escaped her lips. 

It was not dishonorable, because it was not technically a lie. Yet Brienne could not remember a time in her life when she felt more dishonest.

~*~

Brienne rose with the sun the next day, determined to see her father off as he boarded his ship to return to Tarth. Jaime was still fast asleep when she awoke and began preparing herself for the day ahead. She felt no need to rouse him. In truth, it was a relief not to have to worry about accidentally sparking a passion between them when she changed her shirt. 

However, soon after she vacated their quarters, Jaime – who had feigned sleep during most of her morning routine – took hold of his erection and let the memories of the previous morning flood his mind. It was almost unsettling how strongly those thoughts, along with her lingering scent, brought him to climax. 

Much as he had hated the thought of having a separate bedroom to her when he suggested it the night before, he was beginning to think it truly was a good idea. Assuming they were actually able to keep up their celibacy with one another for any length of time, having enough privacy to meet their needs another way would probably be preferable to trying to hide it from one another. 

However, that thought soon led Jaime to a rather more cynical line of reasoning. Perhaps forcing her to confront this side of a chaste marriage would not be the worst idea after all. It could help him make headway towards seducing her. 

But as Jaime began batting that idea around while he rose and dressed himself, he quickly grew more ambivalent about actively trying to make Brienne forsake her vow. He, of course, wanted her to, but he worried that if he made too much of an overt effort, it might backfire. If she could blame him for a moment of weakness on her part, he suspected she would only double-down afterwards.

But if her surrender was mostly her own doing, Jaime suspected he had a better chance at getting her to completely let it go. Which was vastly preferable to seducing her once, and then never having an opportunity to be alone in the same room with her again.

Going through this once was bad enough, Jaime thought to himself as he sent for breakfast. He did not want another brief taste of her only to be denied it again afterward. She would have to break their agreement of her own accord; there was just no other way the break would last. 

Brazenly pleasuring himself in front of her was not going to be a winning move. Jaime needed to be a lot more subtle. 

As he ate his breakfast in solitude, it occurred to him there was a very good reason he had never gone into politics, unlike the rest of his immediate family. He found it exhausting trying to mentally outmaneuver one person who was fairly straightforward in both character and motives. The prospect of trying to do it with whole scads of people with opaque motives and complex relationships to one another was unbearably obtuse to Jaime. 

He once again needed advice from someone a bit more practiced in this arena. 

~*~

Soon after he found himself in Tyrion’s quarters, bemoaning his situation once again. 

“Under normal circumstances, I might have a bit more sympathy for you, dear brother. But given that I am to be shipped off to The Wall in less than a week, I am finding it harder than usual to give this invented problem of yours serious consideration.” 

“Do you have an actual day of departure?” 

“I have three night left here. I leave on the dawn of the fourth day.” 

“You know it occurred to me...obviously leaving The Night’s Watch after you’ve taken the vow is a crime punishable by death. But if you were to just never arrive there in the first place...”

“Cersei would have me hunted down in an instant and killed like a rabid dog.”

“If you got far away enough, she might not have the reach to manage it. Particularly if I persuaded father it was not worth putting significant resources behind the endeavor.” 

“Where do you propose I go?”

“Across the Narrow Sea maybe.”

“I’m not sure what I would do there.”

“Do you really need a grand purpose? Isn’t being able to whore and stay reasonably warm a good enough reason?” 

Tyrion contemplated that question for a brief moment. 

“I suppose. Are we really talking about this?”

“I am if you are.” 

“I am confused. You came in here bemoaning the fact that your marriage is in an unfortunate state and now you want to do something that will only make Cersei more upset with you as well? I am not sure I understand your reasoning here.” 

Jaime sighed heavily, and replied, “I think Cersei will come around eventually. She knows, very deep down, that you did not do it, but her grief is still too strong to let herself admit it yet.” 

“She has wanted me dead long before Joffrey was conceived. I do not believe the state of her grief matters as much as you believe it does.” 

“At any rate, I think if you left and stayed gone she would eventually let it be. And father, well, you only have to worry about him until Brienne has our first healthy son. Once you are out of the immediate line of succession, he is not going to expend any more energy or gold punishing you. He does not care that much.” 

“How would we do it?” 

“Pay Bronn and a few other men to shadow your party on your way up to The Wall. Once you are about a week out from King’s Landing, and in a relatively deserted area, they ‘capture’ you in the night, and take you to the nearest port. Ideally, you would be on a boat before anyone here even got the news, let alone put a reward on your head.” 

“Sounds doable. I find myself once again in your debt.” 

Tyrion raised his half-drunk glass, “To the only member of my family who ever bothered to care if my life was bearable.” 

“However, I would need something from you.” 

“Well you know the saying – a Lannister always pays his debts. Name it.” 

“I would need you to help me coordinate the search for the Stark girls. I will be able to do some of it myself, but I know father will have informants at Casterly Rock reporting on my comings and goings and various dealings. I need someone who isn’t under father’s constant scrutiny to take this on.” 

“That will be quite a task, particularly from across the Narrow Sea. But it certainly beats taking The Black, so I suppose I have no choice but to say yes.” 

“Good. Now back to my problem with Brienne...” 

“You know, it occurs to me that father may actually be of some help to you in this instance.”

Jaime made a face of frank disbelief and asked, “How?” 

“As you said, he likely will have plants at Casterly Rock reporting on your comings and goings. Perhaps even in your traveling party as well. I assume he gave you some absurd lecture about producing an heir as soon as possible, did he not?” 

“He did.” 

“Very well. Simply tell Brienne the truth. Tell her father is keeping close tabs on the two of you, and that to avoid his interference in your lives, you and she must put on a convincing show. No sleeping separately, no visible chiasm between you, no significant time away from each other. Ensure that the two of you must spend as much time in intimate quarters with one another as possible...for father’s sake, of course.”

Jaime nodded, seeming convinced. 

“After all, if the two of you are as attracted to one another as you claim, that level of closeness will lead you to a breaking point sooner or later.” 

“You are probably correct.” 

“Of course I am. It is one of the things I am best at.” 

Jaime could not have disputed that, even if he wished to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, many thanks for your lovely comments! I am almost through with the next chapter as well, so the hiatus won't be as long this time. :)


	11. The Departure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne and Jaime say their good-byes and take their leave from King's Landing.

Jaime spent the rest of his day putting into motion his plan to spare his brother a life at The Wall. Bronn came quickly onboard, particularly given the inflated reward Jaime offered him. The man may have been a mercenary, but he had always liked Tyrion, and given that the money was more than good enough, he had no reason to decline. 

Once satisfied the plan was fully in motion, Jaime returned to his quarters to speak with Brienne. He felt fortunate that he would not have to outright lie to her, even as he was manipulating the truth to his advantage. An outright lie would have been harder to get away with. 

When he arrived, he found her seated at the table, arranging small stacks of gold. 

“What are you doing?” he asked, as he walked over and sat down next to her.

“Oh, I did not expect to see you this afternoon. I am preparing a few gifts for the ladies’ maids who attended me before the wedding. They did a more than satisfactory job and I wanted to thank them for their work.” 

“That is quite thoughtful. And appropriate. You did look exquisite.” 

Jaime let the lust into his voice as he said the last bit. Upon hearing it, she made eye contact with him and seemed almost mesmerized. So much so that – for a split second – Jaime thought he may not need to execute his plan after all. 

However, she managed to break the spell before they actually touched one another and went back to arranging her stacks of coins. 

“Brienne, there’s something we need to discuss. I know I mentioned last night that we would be able to have separate rooms at Casterly Rock to make this whole situation more bearable. But having given it a bit more thought, I don’t believe such a thing a will be possible.” 

Brienne gave him a confused look. 

“Why? Casterly Rock is a castle with upwards of a hundred rooms, no doubt.” 

“Space is not the issue. The issue is my father. He will find out quite quickly if the two of us are not sharing a room.”

“What makes you say that?” 

Jaime lowered his voice and spoke with all the sincerity he could muster. 

“Brienne, he found out about the bed even before I went to see him yesterday morning. He has servant spies everywhere in King’s Landing, and he will no doubt have a small army of them reporting to him from Casterly Rock as well.”

Jaime paused momentarily and could see his words were making a dent, so he continued. 

“Once I have an heir and a spare, he may let go of his more controlling tendencies. But until that happens, I’m afraid we are going to have to put on a convincing show for anyone who might be employed by my family.” 

Brienne sighed deeply, poured herself a drink and took a long sip as she stared into the fire. 

Finally, she replied, in a thoroughly resigned tone, “Very well. Shall I call for dinner?” 

“Yes, I suppose,” Jaime said, his voice shot through with surprise. He had not expected her to relent so quickly or so easily. 

Then again, Jaime’s father was notoriously formidable. It spoke well of Brienne that she took his warnings about the old man so seriously. And the possibility of his interference was serious enough. Jaime just happened to benefit from it in this one instance. 

~*~

Jaime and Brienne decided to take their leave of King’s Landing the same day Tyrion was to leave for The Wall. Jaime felt that would be easiest for everyone involved, particularly Tyrion. 

However, when the dawn that was to separate them arrived, both men struggled to keep their emotions in check. Although Jaime had reasonable assurances their plan would work, it would likely be a good long while before he saw his brother again. 

And if the plan did not work, there was a chance he might never see his brother again. 

“Take care of yourself,” Jaime said, hugging the much smaller man fiercely. 

“You too. And promise me by the time we see one another again, I will have a few more nieces and nephews to play with.”

“I’ll do my best,” Jaime said, smiling through his sadness. 

“I certainly hope so.” 

“Oi! Get a move on, we don’t have all day,” said a scraggly man guarding Tyrion’s fellow band of outlaws. 

“Yes, wouldn’t want to delay our terribly urgent trip up to the barren, freezing ass-end of the world where we aren’t expected to arrive for more than a month,” Tyrion replied sarcastically, as he made his way into the dank carriage. 

“Promise you’ll write?” Jaime asked, as the carriage lurched forward. 

“I promise,” Tyrion replied, and he winked at Jaime with a knowing expression that soothed the older brother’s heart. 

As Jaime watched the carriage make its way along the road, he reminded himself that he had done everything in his power to save his brother’s life and keep him from undo suffering. It was in the hands of other men, and the Gods, now. 

~*~

When he returned to his rooms, he found it a bustle with servants moving trunks out which had been packed the day before, while Brienne ate breakfast at the table with Jaime’s father. 

Jaime’s stomach turned over as he dodged the small army of maids and footmen to join his wife and father at the table. He shuddered to think what the old man had been saying to Brienne in his absence. 

“Where have you been?” his father asked him, by way of a greeting. 

“Seeing Tyrion off. You know, your other son who is condemned to a life of suffering for a crime he did not commit.” 

“He plead guilty at his trial—” 

“You know good and well it was a ploy to save himself from beheading, and nothing more.” 

“I don’t think this is appropriate breakfast conversation.” 

“Very well, father, what would you care to discuss on this fine morning?” Jaime asked, with all the sarcastically false cheer he could muster. 

“I was just asking your new bride how the two of you are enjoying married life.” 

“Well, we would probably enjoy it a lot more if you did not feel the need to ask us invasive questions about it.” 

“It is invasive to ask my son how fares his marriage?”

Tywin’s false indignation almost sounded sincere, and it only made Jaime more frustrated and impatient with him. 

“No one here is remotely fooled by this pretense, and I do not have the patience to indulge it this morning. You are trying to find out if the two of us are regularly fucking.” 

Jaime could sense the servants behind him continuing to scurry in and out of the room as they listened in on his conversation while pretending to be deaf to it at the same time. 

Tywin, for his part, seemed mildly surprised at Jaime’s outburst and was quiet for moment as he simply considered Jaime and Brienne. Finally, he replied, in a very understated tone, “Well, are you?” 

“I seem to remember a conversation you and I shared not long ago in which I explained what would be the likely consequence of you interfering like this in my marital affairs. If I was in any way unclear, please allow me to--”

“Yes, we are,” Brienne interjected, quietly but firmly. 

Tywin and Jaime both looked at her, and while there was a faint blush in her cheeks, she seemed remarkably self-possessed, considering the conversation topic. 

“Well, I am very pleased to hear that,” Tywin responded after a moment. 

His tone suggested he believed her, and for that Jaime was grateful. If the elder Lannister suspected her of lying, things would stand to get quite a bit more uncomfortable for both of them in the near future. 

Rising from his seat, the old man said, “I apologize for the intrusion. I will leave you to your breakfast and to the last of your travel preparations. Please come and see me before you take your leave today.” 

Jaime and Brienne watched the older man leave and waited until he was long gone before speaking to one another. 

“Sorry. I just knew he would not leave us alone unless I gave him a direct answer.” 

“You are probably right. I apologize for baiting him. I should know better by now.” 

Brienne waved her hand as if to say it was nothing. 

“How was it saying good-bye to your brother?” 

“Not exactly enjoyable but I’d rather see him off to The Wall than hanging from one.” 

Brienne nodded and continued to make quick work of the buttered bread and fruit on her plate. Jaime did not feel particularly hungry but forced himself to eat something in preparation for the day ahead. 

By the time they finished eating, their rooms were emptied of all of their belongings, and all the was left was to say their final goodbyes. They made their way up to Tywin’s tower office. When they arrived they found him seated behind his desk, busy as always, with Cersei standing behind him by the fire. Her ever-present goblet of wine was, as always, firmly in hand. 

They exchanged pleasantries and then Tywin asked them to take a seat. 

“Apologies, I have a few missives I should like to send with you. The last is almost complete.” 

As he studiously wrote, Cersei wandered over and asked, “Any plans for when you return to our old home in the Westerlands?” 

“I don’t understand why people keep asking me that. Do I give off the impression I have the repressed urge to redecorate, or some such?” 

Brienne let a burst of laughter escape her and Jaime immediately felt the warmth of it course through him. They made eye contact and smiled. 

Cersei let their moment live for a breath before continuing, “I just wondered. You – _we_ have so many memories in that place, some of them better than others. I am anxious to see which ones you find yourself with the urge to refurnish and which you may find yourself inclined to preserve..._exactly_ as they are.” 

No one in the room, save for Jaime’s father, missed the barely concealed implications of Cersei’s words. Brienne found herself fuming over it and a part of her, the part that felt an unhinged level of rage at Cersei, started concocting a plan to fuck Jaime in every room in that castle until every pleasant memory he had of her in that place was excised. 

Something of it must have shown in her face, too, because after a brief moment, Cersei turned her attention to Brienne and said, “Lady Brienne, you look flushed. I hope you are not taking ill.” 

Nothing in her tone suggested Cersei possessed any sentiment towards Brienne other than low-level malice. However, their entire conversation was nothing but a pretense anyway, so Brienne responded in kind. 

“No, not ill at all your Grace. I am simply overwhelmed with anticipation.” 

Brienne took Jaime’s hand, giving him an overly affectionate look as she continued, “Your brother and I are so looking forward to starting our lives together there. When we arrive, I am particularly anxious to spend some time setting up our nursery. We are both so looking forward to the birth of our first child, whenever the God’s see fit to bless us, and I intend to be more than ready when that day arrives.” 

Jaime did his level best to keep a relatively impassive face as she said this. But all the while, intense bouts of excitement, fear, and arousal swept through him. He knew Brienne’s words were mainly a return strike at Cersei, who had initiated this underhanded battle of words. Nevertheless, Jaime found the situation so erotically charged that he had to focus intently on his father’s face in order to avoid getting a full-fledged erection from the thrill of these two women fighting over him. 

If he had had the chance to fuck one of them in that moment, he honestly was not sure which one he would have picked. And in a strange way, it made him thankful neither was currently an available option. 

“Well, I hope to visit this nursery and this child before too very long,” Tywin replied, finally joining the conversation as he pressed his seal into the drying wax of his final folded missive.

He rose and handed the stack of letters to Jaime, as he said, “Please ensure you give these respectively to the groundskeeper, the head maid, and the master at arms when you arrive.” 

Jaime scanned them quickly and then asked, “Who does this fourth one belong to? There is no name or title.” 

“You. I suggest you read it once you are on your way.” 

“You could have just saved yourself the effort and told me whatever it is, but I suppose since that ship has sailed, we shall simply say farewell.” 

Tywin took his son into a rare, stilted embrace, clapped him on his shoulders and almost looked emotional as he said, “Safe and speedy travels. Let me know when you have arrived.” 

“I shall.” 

Tywin then turned his attention to Brienne. 

“As the newest Lady Lannister, I do hope you will uphold the dignity of this family into which you have married. Almost as much as I sincerely hope to hold that future child of yours in my arms before the year is out.” 

“I will do my best on both counts, Lord Tywin,” Brienne said, and Jaime was impressed by the sincerity in her words. 

Maybe she had meant what she had said to Cersei after all.

The thought made his cock twitch and he was now quite anxious that they take their leave. They both said a halted, polite good-bye to Cersei, and made their way down to the carriage that awaited to take them to their new life. 

As they got inside, and the door closed on them, both were suddenly jolted back to the memory of their carriage ride together as newlyweds, from the Sept back to the castle. 

But where that carriage had been quite small, with windows wide open for the whole world to see inside, this carriage was large, plush, and fitted with curtains that allowed complete privacy when closed. And closed they were. 

Jaime and Brienne sat themselves not an inch away from each other as they lurched forward. Brienne had the thought, clear as a bell in her head, to move to the other side where his body heat would not be so...tempting. 

She had that thought, but with Cersei’s barbs so fresh in her mind, she made a very conscious choice to ignore it. Instead, Brienne turned her body towards him on the seat, grabbed his head, and kissed him. 

Jaime surrendered to it instantly, pulling her on top of him with his one good hand. Brienne straddled him as well as she could, while his legs were awkwardly bent off to the side. The carriage was spacious enough, but both of them were so abnormally tall that they could barely fit the length of their torsos onto the length of the bench. 

However, they made it work, letting their hips grind against one another with the rocking of the carriage, which only added to their arousal. Jaime snaked his hand up her blouse and cupped her right breast, and Brienne let out a sound between a moan and a gasp. 

As their embrace continued, Brienne retained just enough sanity to ask herself, in the back of her mind, whether she was ready to give in so soon. Part of her loathed the thought of being weak enough to surrender so swiftly. However, part of her felt immense satisfaction at having Jaime when Cersei couldn’t – at least not at the moment.

Brienne’s abdomen began to throb aggressively as Jaime moved to nibble and suck at her neck. At this, Brienne began to wonder if her strategy was not horribly misguided. Perhaps she would be more likely to win him in the long run if she fought fire with fire, rather than fighting fire with abstinence. 

And just as Jaime began to pull at the laces of her breeches, and she feared she would be forced to make a decision, the carriage hit a bump in the road that threw Brienne off Jaime and onto the floor.


	12. The Understanding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne reach a detente of sorts.

Brienne did not know exactly how long they remained as they were, she on the floor, Jaime still on the carriage seat, both of them heaving for breath as they stared passionately at one another. 

Brienne only knew it was she who broke their eye contact as she fumbled to a half-standing position and then plopped herself in the opposite corner from where Jaime sat. Saying nothing, she opened the curtains of the window closest to her and resolutely stared out as the many shops and dwellings of King’s Landing flitted by. 

She could feel Jaime staring at her but she could not bear to look him in the eye again until they were a few miles outside the city and she heard him fumbling with a piece of paper. With his false hand, Jaime haphazardly broke the seal his father had placed on the letter only an hour ago and inelegantly unfolded it with his left. He squinted as he read. 

His face was a parade of minute expressions that she suspected he was suppressing for her benefit. He could no doubt feel her staring at him. If forced to put a name to all the ones she saw, Brienne would have said he looked impatient, surprised, resentful and strangely wistful by turns. 

As he finished, he clumsily folded the paper up once again and then stuck it back in his jacket pocket. Finally, he looked at her and let the frustration show in his face. 

Brienne had the sense that now was not the ideal time to interrogate him. However, her curiosity got the better of her. 

“Dare I ask what was in the letter?” 

“You are welcome to ask. I am not going to share.”

“Why?” 

“Because it’s none of your business!” 

For a split-second Brienne felt the sting of his anger before realizing he was right. What was in that letter was not her business, and Jaime was not obligated to share such things with her. 

“You are right, I apologize for asking.” 

“Brienne I...”

He let it hang there for an agonizing length of time. 

“...I am sorry for snapping at you. It was uncalled for.” 

Brienne could tell his sentence had ended differently than when he had started it. However, she was not about to overstep with him once again to ask how. 

Instead, she simply replied, “Thank you,” and he responded with the saddest smile she could imagine. 

To her bones Brienne felt the urge to do something to make things better between them. But she frankly had no idea what that might be and she soon found herself staring out the window again, letting the rolling green of the pastures wash her mind blank. 

~*~

They stopped for lunch under a large oak tree, allowing the horses to rest and drink their fill at the river. The servants prepared them a modest meal and served it inauspiciously while Jaime and Brienne made halted small talk that likely sounded as awkward as it felt. 

As they lapsed into a particularly grueling silence, Brienne thought back to their initial journey from the North to King’s Landing. She used to long for silence from him, if only to stop his incessant parade of insults and clever barbs. 

Now she found herself nostalgic for the time when hostile banter was their preferred form of engagement. As tedious as it had been for her then, it looked downright attractive compared to whatever they found themselves doing now. 

Their conversation felt like a perverse dance which consistent entirely of mismatched steps. It was agonizing. 

They may have been enemies of a sort at the time of their first journey together, but their hostility had manifested in a way that felt organic, natural. Even their sword fight on the bridge, just before they had been captured, had allowed for more honest human contact than they could wrangle from a casual conversation with one another now. 

As they got back into the carriage, Brienne found herself recalling an old saying she had never put much stock in before. It suddenly rang truer to her than any other words of wisdom she could summon to mind. 

It caught her so strongly that she smiled sadly to herself and Jaime had to ask, “What?”

Brienne felt the carriage lurch forward as she looked him straight in the eye and said, “When the gods wish to punish us, they answer our prayers.” 

He seemed to take her meaning almost instantly. 

“And which part of this did you pray for?”

“On the road to King’s Landing I used to pray you would run out of witty words and clever barbs to throw at me. At lunch I found myself longing to hear one in place of your observations about the weather. Even before that I used to pray that someone I desired would find a way to desire me in return. That I might be able to marry a respectable man who respected me. I suppose I should be grateful I got what I asked for but...” 

“But it feels like a punishment.” 

“Yes,” Brienne said just above a whisper. 

“I hate to restate the obvious, but I feel the need to point out –”

“Do not sit there and tell me all of this is my choice, Jaime Lannister! Do not ever say that to me again! You have just as much power here as I do, and it is every bit as much your choice to keep this going as it is mine. Stop blaming me for a choice you also have the power to make.” 

At first he appeared flushed and ready to fight, but Brienne could see her words slowly taking hold. Finally, he sat back and looked away from her in a posture of defeat. 

“Very well. You are not wrong, and it is unfair of me to suggest you are the only cause of our situation.” 

“Thank you.” 

Although every ounce of good sense she possessed told Brienne to let it be, she nonetheless was unable to refrain from one final question. 

“Why can’t you let go of her?” 

She struggled to read the face he made before he replied, “We should not talk of this. It will only upset us both.” 

“I don’t mean the questions as a criticism.”

“Don’t you?”

“I am sincerely asking – why is it so hard for you to give her up?”

“You first. Why is it so hard for you to share?” 

The question genuinely gave Brienne pause. Although she knew pride was part of it, there was something deeper at work in her refusal than even she had understood at first. 

“Because...I am worthy of more.” 

Jaime almost seemed impressed with her declaration as he replied, “That is...hard to deny.” 

“Your turn.” 

Jaime sighed very deeply and looked out the window at the passing forests, almost as if he were trying to scry the truth out of the trees. Finally, finally, he spoke. 

“Brienne I wish I had an answer that satisfied. I really do. I have been asking it of myself for twenty some odd years, long before I ever met you. The best I can give you is this: Cersei is a part of me somehow in a way no other being on earth is, or ever could be. I don’t know what it means to be in the world without her and losing her would feel like losing –” 

Although he never said it, the phrase hung so thick in the air that they both glanced in unison at the place where Jaime’s right hand used to be. 

Eventually the tension became unbearable to Brienne. 

“You already know you can survive it,” she said just above a whisper. 

“Should I have to twice? Was once not enough for you?” 

Brienne wished she had a good answer to his question, one that would make her demand seem fair and reasonable. But his words moved her despite herself and she had to acknowledge that his point was not without merit. 

He had already lost one very precious limb for her. Was she really in a position to demand more sacrifices from him? 

Silence descended once more between them and remained for the next few hours. However, both could feel the nature of it had changed. Much of the resentment – on both sides – had faded.

To truly understand was not a cure, but it did lessen the pain considerably. 

~*~ 

Soon after dusk they arrived at an Inn and had a surprisingly pleasant dinner of meat pies before they retired for the night. Jaime and Brienne shared a room with one bed, but they managed it with a great deal of grace. 

Much of their mutual aggression had withered in light of their heart to heart. However, the lust between them remained and it had the eerie power to make them feel as if they were way too close and way too far away at the exact same moment. 

They were furnished with wine in their suite, of which Jaime was only too happy to partake. However, when he asked Brienne if she wanted any, she declined. 

“Why not?” Jaime asked, pouring himself a generous helping as he sat at the small table in front of the crackling fireplace. 

“Because...it makes me want to touch you.” 

As she said this, Jaime looked at her from over the rim of his glass. Finally, he brought it down and swallowed. He then let out a very long, affected sigh before he spoke again in an undertone. 

“I have every intention of respecting your wishes as regards our marriage bed. But if you have any sympathy for me at all, please don’t say things like that to me. It’s agony.” 

She nodded demurely.

“As you wish.”

Jaime downed the rest of his wine in another two swallows and then rose and took leave to ensure the servants and horses had all been taken care of. Brienne knew it was a pretense for him to leave the room so she could change into sleeping clothes without making things more difficult between them. 

She took the opportunity and was fully enveloped by the bed’s small mountain of sheets and blankets by the time Jaime returned. He blew out most of the candles, put more wood on the fire, and then partially undressed to join Brienne. 

She lay on her side, facing the wall and deliberately keeping as much space between them as possible. On the one hand it felt childish, and excessively theatrical. On the other hand, her mind could not stop conjuring up thoughts of what would happen if she rolled over and kissed him.

Against her better judgement, she let her thoughts play out, imagining all the wonderful ways they might touch and taste one another. She felt the ache in her groin and the wetness between her legs grow, but she let the thoughts continue and derived some paradoxical pleasure from the fact that she could have those things at any moment, if she so chose. 

In some ways, to have the choice itself surpassed having him touch her. It did not and could not match the physical gratification, by any means. But to know that both of her desires would be met affirmatively by him at any moment was also gratifying, and it made her feel lucky. 

Lucky enough that she broke the silence. 

“I did not mean what I said earlier.” 

“Which part?”

Brienne rolled on her back and turned her head to face him in the dark. 

“You, this, is not a punishment. It is uncomfortable at times but...you are blessing, not a burden and it was unfair of me to say such a thing.” 

In the semi-darkness she could see him take on a half-hearted smile. 

“I thought I told you not to say things like that to me anymore?” 

His tone was an attempt at being flippant that sounded pained. He meant it, and was not even trying that hard to hide it. 

“I am sorry.” 

“Don’t be. It only hurts in the good way.”

Brienne nodded. She understood. 

They let the silence breathe for a moment, each lying on their backs with their heads turned towards one another. This time it was Jaime who broke it.

“I wish I could kiss you right now.”

“I wish you could, too.” 

At that Brienne turned back over and pulled the blankets up even farther towards her chin. The lust was gone, replaced with a dull ache of sadness. 

~*~

And so it went for much of the length of their journey. There were small variations from one day to the next, but none of much note. 

They spent much time discussing their plans to continue to seek out and protect the Stark girls in the weeks and months ahead. Jaime filled Brienne in on the deal he made to free his brother from the Night’s Watch and how he planned to use Tyrion in their efforts. Assuming the escape was successful, of course. 

Indeed, it was the main reasons Jaime was at all anxious to arrive at Casterly Rock as their journey drew to a close. A raven would no doubt be waiting for him to provide an update on Tyrion’s daring escape. 

Otherwise, Jaime was rather unmoved about returning home. The place had a few charms, and a lot of memories, some distinctly better than others. 

However, he had always found the business of being a Lord rather dull and he was ambivalent about taking on that particular mantel. But then again, being a member of the Kingsguard was often dull and it provided a lot less freedom than the life of a Lord. In all likelihood, he had traded up. 

The day they arrived, the castle was shrouded in fog, as it often was. It gave the place an aura of power and mystery in excess of the reality, at least in Jaime’s mind. 

“Welcome to your new home, My Lady,” he said to Brienne as they approached the front gate. 

“It’s almost exactly as I pictured it,” Brienne said. 

Her tone did not suggest that she was either disappointed or impressed. Her expectations just seemed met. 

“What would you like to do on your first night as the Lady of Casterly Rock?” 

“Well, I am desperate for a real bath, as I am sure you are.” 

Jaime could tell she had not intended to invoke one of their most emotionally charged memories because the second he looked her square in the face she began to awkwardly retreat. 

“I did not mean to suggest that we should--ah, that we ought to..."

He quickly took pity on her and held up his false hand as he assured her, "You don't need to worry. Unlike the last time, I will not impose upon you." 

She nodded, grateful for his gracious manner. 

"Unless you want me to." 

He said this just as the carriage drew to a halt and the doors flew open. Without waiting for a reply, he exited immediately, and turned around to offer his hand to her.

Brienne hesitated for a moment, and then took it, exiting the carriage with as much grace as she could manage. 

She knew he was not actually waiting for an answer, that he had said it merely to be provocative.

However the offer stewed in her mind as she followed him through the courtyard and into the walls of the castle. It was a new lesson in something she had long ago thought she fully understood. 

Brienne used to believe that desires were binary -- either you wanted something or you did not. Now she understood - desire can be two-faced. You can want something _and_ not want it, somehow exactly at the same time.


	13. The Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne arrive and begin to make themselves at home in Casterly Rock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies to any readers of the books for whom I may contradict certain things about Casterly Rock moving forward. As I haven't read them, I only know what is available on various wikis. A lot of my descriptions of the castle will be my own inventions.

They were greeted by what seemed like a full-fledged army of servants, most appearing at least a bit familiar to Jaime. Brienne found herself introduced to a wide variety of them in quick succession, and while they were unfailingly polite and eager to please, Brienne could tell her appearance was off-putting to a fair number of them, despite their best efforts to hide it. 

In truth, she had half forgotten how her looks tended make strangers react. She had lived in the Red Keep long enough that most of its regular inhabitants had gotten used to her. 

And it had been a very long time since Jaime had looked at her like that. 

Once they had been properly received, Jaime instantly and effortlessly took on his role as master of the house. 

“Thank you for the gracious arrival. Please have all of our personal items brought up to the master suite. My Lady would also like a bath drawn for her at once. I presume supper will be ready at seven?”

“Yes, My Lord.” 

“Excellent. In the meantime, have a tray of fruit and cheese brought to our room, along with some wine. I need to send a raven to my father and the rest of my family in King’s Landing to let them know we have arrived safely. Please send the maester to my office as soon as possible with any messages he may have waiting for me.”

Turning to address Brienne, Jaime continued, “Rose will take you to our suite. I will rejoin you within the hour.” 

He then leaned in and kissed her quite casually. Brienne almost resisted but quickly remembered what Jaime had said to her about servants spying on them and reporting back to Tywin. He turned and walked off along a corridor, leaving her to Rose, one of her ladies maids. 

“If you’ll please follow me, My Lady,” the young woman said in a chirpy voice as she made her way toward a flight of stairs.

She was pretty in a plain sort of way Brienne thought to herself as they made their way to what would be her new living quarters. The girl had watery blue eyes, long straight brown hair, and a tiny turned up nose. She looked to be about nineteen or twenty. 

As they went, she pointed out a few things, clearly trying to help her new mistress start to learn her way around the place. Brienne made a modest effort to pay attention but found that her mind was too preoccupied to take in much of it. 

They made their way up two large flights of stairs and down a long corridor. They rounded a corner and there was the open door to the master’s suite. Brienne entered and was immediately awash in red and gold. She found it almost dizzying. 

Most noble houses tended to decorate with their colors, of course, but the Lannisters were in a class by themselves. She made a mental note to talk to Jaime about toning it down a bit at some point in the future. 

“My Lady, Lord Jaime said you would like a bath drawn. Would you prefer to have one here in your quarters, or would you prefer to use the heated tubs in the east wing?” 

Brienne thought for a moment and figured it would be quicker and easier for all involved to bathe in her quarters. She told Rose as much and the girl quickly set her request in motion. 

In the meantime, trunks began arriving in their rooms, and the servants diligently put away their contents with striking speed. Although she and Jaime did not have a great deal in the way of personal effect, she was still surprised at the fact that everything was already in its proper place by the time the tub arrived in her room and was filled with warm water. 

Rose ushered the last linger servants out and helped Brienne undress. Brienne thought about simply dismissing the girl, but decided she need to get used to this way of life. She was now the Lady of one of the greatest houses in Westeros; she could no long act like the rebellious daughter of a Lord of only middling consequence. 

Despite Brienne’s hulking size and rather unladylike figure, the girl was faultlessly professional. She helped Brienne wash her hair and then left Brienne to wash her own body as she moved to lay out fresh clothes.

“My Lady, do you have a preference as to what you would like to wear to dinner, or would you like me to make a selection?”

“You may make a selection, but I warn you, I have very little in the way of proper dresses I am afraid. You may find it difficult to find something suitable.” 

“My Lady, you have five dresses commissioned as a wedding gift by Lady Olenna Tyrell. They arrived maybe a week before you did.” 

As she said this, Brienne recalled hazily that Lady Olenna mentioned sending her gift directly to Casterly Rock at the wedding feast. She had forgotten all about it since then, but found her curiosity piqued. The Tyrell’s were famously extravagant when it came to clothing; Brienne hoped Lady Olenna had managed to exercise a bit of restraint. 

Rose made a selection and laid it out on the bed, and then returned to Brienne’s side.

“Can I do anything else for you My Lady?” 

“Yes, please pour me a glass of wine and bring it here.” 

Rose did as asked, and Brienne accepted the glass and took a long drink before she dismissed the girl. She curtseyed and left, and Brienne spent a few glorious minutes by herself enjoying the hot water and the wine in peace. 

When she had only one or two sips left to go, Jaime arrived and seemed genuinely surprised to walk in on her bathing. 

“My apologies, I forgot.”

“It is alright,” Brienne found herself saying, and was surprised to discover she meant it. 

In their two weeks of travel, they had managed to overcome a great deal of their awkwardness. Things were not perfectly comfortable yet, but they were better every day. 

“Did you get the message off to your father?” 

“I did. I also received word from Bronn that they successfully captured Tyrion and they are making their way to port. I expect to receive another raven when he’s gotten on a ship for Essos, which should be any day now.” 

“I’m glad to hear it.” 

“My father’s probably heard by now as well. I would be surprised if his return message to me does not include some outraged accusation about helping Tyrion.” 

“Well, it would not be misplaced, exactly.” 

“True,” Jaime said, and smiled. 

They shared a moment of light amusement and then Brienne felt the air shift distinctly. The heat between them was on the rise again. 

“Would you like another?” Jaime asked, his voice half an octave lower, as he gestured to the empty wine glass in her hand. 

“No, I’m fine. But would you mind putting it back on the table for me?” 

Jaime rose, and took the glass from her. As he did, their fingers brushed and Brienne felt her desire for him reignite like a fire doused with oil. 

As Jaime turned away to take her cup back to the table, he said, “I am intruding, I will leave you to your bath.” 

While Brienne truly did not want to tempt anything, she also felt bad kicking him out of his own chambers. 

“No, you don’t need to leave. We...we need to get used to this. I don’t think delaying the inevitable will make it any easier.” 

Jaime nodded, and replied, “As you wish.” 

“But you could set up the privacy shield, as I plan to get out in a moment.” 

Jaime did as she asked, but he struggled quite a bit with only one hand, and the result was rather comical. Brienne tried not to laugh at him, but she could not contain herself entirely. 

“I’m so glad my struggle is entertaining to you,” Jaime said, his tone free of any real animus. 

“Next time I will ask my ladies maid to do it,” Brienne replied.

“How do you like her so far?” Jaime asked from the far side of the divider. 

“I like her quite a bit. She is helpful, but not at all pushy.” 

“I’m glad.”

Brienne rose and let the water fall off her into the copper basin before she stepped out of the bath and grabbed the drying cloth Rose had left for her. As she dried herself, she heard Jaime ring for one of the servants and then start in on some of the food.

“Could you possibly hand me the clothes Rose laid out for me on the bed as well?” 

Jaime did and Brienne was pleasantly surprised by the gown she was handed. The base of it was a watery blue perfectly matching her eyes. It was simple, no fancy embroidery, no plunging neckline, no elaborate frills. However, the skirt section had an over-layer of rich red fabric with gold trim, open at the front and making an A line down to the hem – a mix of her house colors, old and new. 

Brienne still intended to wear her normal clothes day to day. But she appreciated Lady Olenna’s foresight on her behalf. From time to time she would need to truly act the part she had accepted, clothing and all. 

Brienne dressed quickly and emerged from behind the divider just as the servant Jaime had rung for knocked on the door. Jaime seemed ready to answer when he got a glimpse of Brienne and seemed temporarily unable to speak. 

“You look...”

Brienne waited, but he seemed unable to decide what to say. She could see in his face a strange mixture of awe, confusion, desire and something resembling resentment. They gazed at one another for a long moment that grew heavy until the servant at the door knocked again.

“My Lord?” 

Jaime tore his gaze away from Brienne and shouted, “Yes, enter.” 

A tall, wiry man who looked to be in his late 30s opened the door and let himself into their suite. 

“Please have a fresh bath drawn for me.” 

“Yes, My Lord.” 

Brienne moved to sit with Jaime at the small table where the wine, cheese, and fruit had been set out for them. They watched the servants remove Brienne’s used tub of water and bring in fresh, heated water for Jaime, all the while making small talk appropriate to be overheard. 

“Tomorrow, if you are up for it, I would love to show you around the castle and grounds.”

“That sounds lovely.” 

“The courtyard and attached gardens are particularly beautiful. I think you will enjoy them. If you’d like to, we can also go riding along the cliffs.”

He paused for a moment before continuing. 

“Also, just to warn you, we will be receiving guests later this week. Lord and Lady Swyft are coming to pay respects to the new Lord and Lady of Casterly Rock.” 

“I suppose we will be having a lot of visits like that over the next few weeks.”

“Undoubtedly.” 

“I suppose I should be grateful Lady Olenna had the foresight to make me some proper dresses.” 

“Oh, was that her doing?” 

“Yes.” 

“Makes sense. I seem to recall she said she was sending her wedding gift directly to Casterly Rock. And no offense, my Lady, but it does seem like the kind of thing you would overlook.” 

“No offense taken. I am just grateful I will not embarrass you.” 

Jaime made a strange face at her and looked ready to say something of significance when the tall, wiry servant from before interrupted. 

“My Lord, your bath is ready. Would you like to be attended to?” 

“Just help me out of my clothes, and then you can go.” 

The two men stepped behind the privacy shield and Brienne heard clothes rustling about followed by the slight sloshing of the water as Jaime stepped into the tub. 

“Would you like me to lay out some fresh clothes for you before I go, My Lord?” 

“Yes, if you could. Thank you.” 

The man did as asked and then gave a quick bow to both of them at the door before taking his leave. 

For a while they sat in silence while Brienne sipped more wine and Jaime gave himself a good scrub down. Eventually, Brienne got far enough into her second glass that she voiced the main thought on her mind. 

“I think about it all the time, you know.”

“What?” Jaime asked, in a subdued tone.

“Our bath at Harrenhal.” 

Jaime was silent for a long moment before he asked.

“What about it, exactly?” 

“I think about what might have happened if you hadn’t joined me and told me what you told me. I think about whether or not we would still be alive, whether or not we would have ever become friends, whether or not we would be sitting here right now, the Lord and Lady of Casterly Rock.” 

She paused briefly and then continued. 

“I also think sometimes about how else it might have ended.”

“What do you mean?”

Brienne knew she was treading into territory best avoided, but the wine and the moist heat from the bath made her feel inclined to push forward.

“I used to think I was insane and imagining things. I used to think it was all in my head. And maybe it was at that point. But there was a part of me that felt, even then, that maybe you wanted something more than friendship from me.” 

Her confession gave Jaime the strangest feeling of déjà vu as he sat in this bath and felt himself get half hard talking to her about that particularly pivotal moment from their past. For a split-second, he pondered whether to let this subject, and his erection, fade out, or make the most of both while they were on offer. He chose the latter. 

Grabbing hold of it with his left hand, Jaime stroked himself under the water as he did his best to continue this line of conversation with Brienne. 

“You are right, I did. When you rose from that water, angry and ready to fight me, my cock got half hard looking at you. I thought I was going mad.” 

Brienne felt an absurd kind of thrill sweep through her at his words. All this time she thought she had just been flattering herself to imagine it, but it had been true after all. He had desired her, even then. And it made her want to hear more, despite their mutual agreement to avoid temptation. 

“What about after that?” 

Jaime could hear the breathless excitement in her voice, and it made him pump his hand even more vigorously as he answered her question frankly. 

“After we left Harrenhal and continued on to King’s Landing, some nights I would think about the two of us fucking on the soft grass and dirt by the river, like a pair of wild animals. I would imagine it, and touch myself, and then tell myself the next morning that it was meaningless.”

Brienne could hear the strain in Jaime’s voice and it just made the ache in her groin throb that much harder. 

“What about you?” he asked.

Brienne did not know why she was continuing to indulge this absurd exercise save for the fact that it felt good and yet somehow still seemed within the bounds of their agreement. 

“Those nights when we would huddle close by the campfire, I used to ask myself what might happen if I rolled over next to you in the night, if I touched you, or kissed you. Would you let me? Would you do it back? I used to think about us touching each other to completion in the dark.”

She could now hear Jaime breathing quite heavily across the barrier and slight, steady movements in the water, almost rhythmic. 

“You should have. It would have made the trip a lot more pleasant.” 

“It would have been inappropriate.” 

“Sometimes that’s half of what makes it feel good.” 

Brienne heard Jaime’s breathing reach a peak and then slowly calm. While she was not sure of what it meant, she had an inkling. 

“I am aware of that.” 

While Jaime had managed to eke out some satisfaction this time around, he still felt the strong urge to ask her, once again, what all this denial was really for. But before he could, he heard her voice in his head reminding him it was just as much about his chosen loyalty to Cersei as it was about her stubborn pride. 

This situation was still one he had power over. It just demanded a sacrifice. And while he was not prepared to make that sacrifice today, with hundreds of miles between them, and with their lives on divergent paths – ones that seemed destined to diverge even more as time progressed – Jaime could physically feel his devotion to Cersei wavering. 

However, what worried him was not his wavering sentiments toward Cersei. What worried him was how little he could summon himself to care.


	14. The Holding Pattern

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne settle into being the Lord and Lady of Casterly Rock.

Brienne and Jaime woke the next day to a small but distinct bloodstain on their sheets, a herald of the news that any child they might have would not be coming in any less than nine months. 

They spoke of it only to acknowledge they needed to have the servants change the sheets. Soon after, they breakfasted in their room and watched in silence as two maids stripped the bed. The tension of the situation hung like a dark cloud over the entire room, magnified by their mutual silence. But neither Jaime nor Brienne felt inclined to make small talk and neither wanted to make _that_ the topic of conversation. 

For her part, Brienne felt a mix of relief and disappointed. Relief that she still had something to bargain with, disappointment that she – like everyone else with a stake in this – would have to wait a good while longer for a child. 

Despite their current rift, she wanted a child by Jaime...more than one. And not just because the process of making them – at least in the beginning – was so gratifying. She wanted them for many reasons – to ensure the survival of her own house, to ensure Jaime could carry on his own, to see if Jaime could help her pass something of herself down, minus the worst of her ugliness. 

She wanted to teach them – all of them – to hold a sword and fight. She wanted to take trips to Tarth so her father could dote on his grandchildren and they could see the beauty of the isle for themselves. She wanted to do so many things. 

More practicably, she also wanted Tywin Lannister to take less of an interest in their affairs, and down in the pettiest part of herself, she desperately wanted to make Cersei jealous. 

But apparently all of that would have to wait for a time still to come. 

Jaime, for his part, was all disappointment. While he knew it was a long shot – it usually takes more than a few tries to get pregnant – he had harbored some hope in the back of his mind that perhaps they might get lucky.

His most acute desire was simply to get his father off his back. He had shielded Brienne from the worst of it so far, but Jaime genuinely worried about what sort of lengths his father might go to should a new Lannister not arrive in the next one to two years. As uncomfortable as things were for him now with Brienne, he knew it would get exponentially worse if Tywin Lannister eventually saw fit to truly intervene. 

However, he also genuinely wanted children by Brienne, and having to wait that much longer to see them brought into the world was no small thing to him either. It had pained him a great deal to know all of his children by Cersei would never know him as their father, never be his to raise, never bare the stamp of his name. It was only a shadow of the real thing, and Jaime desperately wanted the real thing. 

Deep down, he had also entertained fantasies that Brienne might be willing to relent and share his bed if a baby was already forthcoming. He knew her withholding was not just about the leverage of offspring, but he suspected if she lost that bargaining chip, she might be more easily persuaded to give up their agreement – if only temporarily. 

But it was not meant to be. They would have to keep muddling through with future generations still hanging in the balance. 

~*~

As the day progressed, Jaime was good to his word, and he took Brienne on an extensive tour of Casterly Rock. He found himself strangely fighting the urge to tell her various stories about his childhood within the castle, for many of them involved Cersei. However, he shared a handful that centered around him and Tyrion and their cousins. 

Brienne could feel he was holding back Cersei’s presence in his past. On the one hand, she appreciated his thoughtfulness and restraint. However, the other woman’s notable absence in some ways made her feel more present, like a ghost hovering just between them – incorporeal, but all the more powerful for being there and not there at the same time. 

Later, they had the servants pack a midday meal for them, and they rode along the cliffs to a particularly beautiful spot Jaime liked to come to when he was younger to watch the waves crash against the rock. The day could not have been more pleasant, and for this short time, it felt to both of them as if they were simply a happily married Lord and Lady enjoying a beautiful day. 

After a somewhat long but easy silence while they watched the waves pound the cliffs, Jaime said, rather abruptly, “I miss having Bronn around.” 

“What makes you say that?” 

“He and I, we used to spar together on a little alcove on the shores of King’s Landing. The sound of the waves reminded me.”

“Why did you spar with him?” 

Jaime’s face took on a layer of shame as he explained his current inadequacies with a sword and the fact that he paid Bronn to discreetly help him relearn the basics using the left instead of the right. 

“Would it be the height of pointlessness to ask why you did not come to me? Am I not trustworthy enough, or just not good enough to help the great Jaime Lannister?” 

Jaime gave her a dry face with a distinctly raised eyebrow. 

“Self-deprecation doesn’t suit you, My Lady. You know you are good enough...more than good enough. And it did occur to me to ask you. I truly thought about it...”

“But?”

“But...I worried it might make you feel guilt over the loss of my hand.” 

“Oh.” 

That thought had not occurred to Brienne initially but once he said it, she realized his concern was not without merit. While she did not feel fully responsible for his loss – his own lack of humility was partly to blame – she also was aware, had she not been there at all, it likely would not have happened. 

That he felt inclined to spare her feelings in that way moved her to kiss him. He seemed surprised but gave in instantly, tasting the salt from the sea air on her lips. They allowed it to continue until they were lying down fully on their blanket, Jaime lightly groping her breast over the fabric of her top. 

Brienne then pulled back and told him _no more_ with a facial expression. He looked disappointed but not at all surprised; he let her go and rolled over onto his back. She did the same and they stared in silence for a long while at the large, white clouds overhead. 

Eventually, Brienne broke the silence.

“I was sad about it, you know.” 

“What?” 

“That we will have to wait for a child.”

To hear her say it made his heart ache.

“Glad to know I wasn’t the only one. Somehow I figured you would be relieved.” 

“I...was. It’s confusing, even to me. You have the strangest power to make me want something and not want it at the same time.” 

“I don’t know if that is a complement or an accusation.” 

“Neither do I.” 

They lapsed into another long silence and continued to watch the slow march of the clouds overhead as the sun began its downward slope toward the western horizon. Finally, Brienne spoke again.

“I am happy to help you continue to practice with your left, if you are interested.” 

“I am, thank you. I hope I can count on your discretion,” he said with a slight twinkle in his eye.

“We’ll see,” Brienne replied in kind. 

~*~

Over the next several days, they quickly settled into a comfortable routine. They would breakfast together in their chambers and then handle any daily business that required their attentions – upkeep of the castle and grounds, tax collection of the local lords and peasants, military drills and readiness for the formidable Lannister army, ravens with news from far away. 

Then they would typically take their lunch together somewhere in the castle or on the grounds, most often in the gardens, or the alcove with the lion fountain. Jaime came to realize Brienne liked the sound of the running water. 

After that came the part of the day that gave them both the greatest joy. For two to three hours they would work up a sweat sparing in one of the large halls which Brienne suspected were otherwise intended for grand balls and other such gatherings. 

Despite the radical decrease in his fighting prowess, Brienne could tell he had already made significant progress with Bronn. She was quick to concede his skills outmatched her own when using her left, and she would occasionally fight him with it just to give him something to benchmark against and boost his spirit. 

However, most of the time he insisted she use the right and repeatedly requested she not hold back. Brienne still held back a little, if only to ensure their practice was fruitful. Had she not held back at all, he would make no progress for being constantly disarmed immediately. 

But she was plenty earnest about it and found joy not only in the daily opportunity to hone her craft but also in watching him improve little by little. He was surprisingly good-natured about it; his ego was all but absent and she frankly marveled that any man, let alone one as wealthy, famous, and high-born as Jaime Lannister, could set it so firmly aside. 

It made her like him – and love him – even more. Which just made the tension of their desire all that much worse. Despite the fact that they shared a bed every night, Brienne found this part of her days the hardest to maintain their arrangement. 

No matter how drafty the room was, within minutes they would both be flushed and sweaty, hearts pounding, breaths heaving as they targeted one another for swipes and thrusts and the occasional raw exertion of force. 

It constantly called to mind something she remembered Jaime saying just before they were taken prisoner on their journey to King’s Landing. _‘We enjoy a good fight now and then. Gets our juices flowing.’_ That was exactly how it felt to her, as if his words on that bridge had been some kind of strange portent. 

However, Brienne was also sure she was not doing herself any favors by gratuitously indulging the feeling afterwards. Whenever they decided to call it quits, they typically took turns bathing, her first, him second. As often as not, Brienne would use her time to stroke herself to climax as she thought about what might happen if she got him to the ground, disarmed him, dropped her own sword, and ripped his clothes off. 

It was a fantasy she enjoyed immensely and the more she indulged it, the more pleasure it gave her. She suspected Jaime had some similar ritual, and although she had no proof, her suspicion was correct. 

Once done with her bath, Brienne would dress for dinner, and leave their chambers to spend some time alone wandering the castle, grounds, or near-by cliff-sides before they supped together. 

It was the only time Jaime reliably got to himself and he made the most of it by concocting elaborate fantasies of fucking his wife all over Casterly Rock – in the bath, on the bed, on the floor in front of the fire, on the desk in his study. It was in these moments of solitude that Jaime would ask himself, day after day, why he continued this ‘perverse chastity’ as Tyrion had called it when he could easily have his fantasies brought to life with only a few words. 

His true feelings and thoughts on the subject were opaque, even to himself. Truth be told, something in him had started letting go of Cersei the day he and Brienne left King’s Landing for Casterly Rock. His feelings toward his sister were far from resolved, but something in him knew their lives would never be on parallel paths again. Even if he continued to fuck her occasionally, they would never be what they once were to each other. 

Sure as he knew the sun would rise in the east, Jaime also knew, deep down, he was holding back with Brienne for some reason that ultimately had little – if anything – to do with Cersei. And he did not feel comfortable surrendering to Brienne until he figured out why he was so reticent to. 

The situation made him miss his little brother something fierce. _‘You were always bad at knowing how you feel.’_ Tyrion had been right after all. If only Jaime had been smart enough to listen to him while they were still on the same side of the known world. 

~*~

As the days ticked by, Tyrion was ever more on Jaime’s mind. He had heard nothing from Bronn and although no news was better than bad news, it was still unsettling. To make matters more so, he had heard nothing from his father either. 

Jaime had assumed once Tywin learned Tyrion had escaped, he would be bombarded with outraged and accusatory messages. But there had been no ravens from King’s Landing, not even one to acknowledge their safe arrival or to remind Jaime of his duty to produce an heir as soon as possible.

He was sure Tywin knew by now Brienne was not currently expecting. Whichever of the servants was currently employed by his father to spy on them had no doubt shared the news with him. The silence was almost more unsettling than threats would have been. 

Fortunately, Jaime had a fair amount to keep him busy as he awaited word from various members of his family. Many of the Westerland houses made a point of coming to call on the new master of Casterly Rock and his bride. It seemed every other day Jaime and Brienne were playing host to some local nobleman's family. 

Jaime had a decent memory for them, thankfully, and Brienne was amazed at how charming he could be to them. He was always able to recall some story about visiting their houses with his father when he was a boy, or some cousin of theirs he had encountered at some point in King’s Landing. He was quite good at making them feel welcome, important, and like he cared about them. And from what Brienne could see, he did actually care. Perhaps not about the petty details of their lives, but for their overall well-being. 

He had more than once openly reflected to her about how he lacked Tyrion’s talent for reading people and understanding complex politics of the realm. She believed it to be true to an extent. But Jaime knew how to make people like him and make them feel like they were a priority to their liege lord, which was its own kind of power-brokering. He just did not think of it as such. He did it out of a sense of duty, not an eye towards gaining anything, unlike his father. 

Brienne often marveled at how a man like Jaime Lannister came into this world through a man like Tywin Lannister. He was so unlike his father in so many ways – driven by a sense of honor, not always looking for the advantage, able to tolerate not getting his way, capable of letting his ego drop, sincerely concerned for lives of innocents and people in his charge. 

Maybe it was the influence of his belated mother, or his outcast brother, or maybe it was willed by the Gods themselves. Whatever the reason, Brienne found herself marveling almost daily at how different he was from his popular reputation and from her own first impressions of him. 

It truly amazed her, how wrong one could turn out to be about a person.


	15. The Reversal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things change in ways neither Jaime nor Brienne could have predicted.

Jaime knew it was too good to be true that his father would simply leave them be. As the days ticked by without any news, he had begun to hope that Tywin had relegated him to the bottom of his list of concerns. He had begun to imagine they might get a reprieve from the old man’s snooping and machinations. 

It was, of course, too good an idea to be true. 

The raven came as he was having his midday meal with Brienne. The maester came to find him, and the moment Jaime saw his father’s seal, his heart sunk. He thanked the maester, dismissed him, and opened the scroll to read. 

He felt his shoulders drop involuntarily and let out a resigned “fuck” as he tossed it Brienne’s way. 

She retrieved the scroll from the table, read it, and met Jaime’s eyes. 

“I should have known there was no way I was out from under his thumb,” he said before letting out a long sigh. 

“How long do you think it will take the royal caravan to travel here? A little over two weeks?” 

“Thereabouts. At least we have plenty of time to make preparations. And fortunately, the King is not particularly demanding. I’m actually rather looking forward to seeing him. My father on the other hand...” 

“Who else do you suppose will be included in this royal visit, besides the King, the Queen and your father? The note was rather uninformative on that point.” 

“At least eight Goldcloaks, likely a dozen servants and maids. Perhaps one or two of Marjorie’s female companions. I don’t believe anyone else of great significance is likely to come, or I suspect my father would have told us as much. The only other person who will likely be included is...my sister.” 

Brienne almost flinched at Jaime’s mention of Cersei. Although she hung like a dark cloud over their otherwise amiable marriage, they had reached a silent agreement not to acknowledge her. But in all likelihood, she would be included in this royal visit, and they were going to have to figure out how to deal with the issue of her more directly. 

“Shall we cancel our afternoon sparing session?” Jaime asked. 

“No. Let’s take an hour and make sure everyone in the castle is informed. They can begin their preparations immediately and take stock of everything that needs further attention and expenditure. Tomorrow morning, they can give us a full report, and then we can coordinate the rest of the preparations in earnest.”

“As you wish, My Lady.” 

They split up and informed all the higher-level staff that the King, Queen, Hand of the King, Queen Mother, and about twenty other people would be arriving in a little over two weeks and would be residing there for a brief stay. The staff responded with the proper urgency and by the time Brienne and Jaime met back up in the grand hall for their usual afternoon activities, both of them could already see the difference in the running of Casterly Rock. 

At first, Jaime was glad Brienne had not wanted to cancel their sparring session. However, he quickly gathered she was not in her usual amiable, helpful state about it. She was particularly ruthless with him, disarming him with alarming speed, and landing blows that felt unduly harsh. 

After about fifteen minutes of this, in which Brienne became no less relentless, Jaime called a stop to it to ask, rather accusingly, “Is something on your mind, My Lady?”

Brienne’s brow scrunched up at his question and she made a face of such sincere confusion, Jaime almost instantly came to realize she was not even aware she was behaving differently from normal. 

“What do you mean?” she asked. 

“I mean, you were sparing as if we are in an actual fight.”

She gave him a contemplative look and he continued, “Are we?” 

Brienne let out a long sigh and looked around the room, clearly avoiding his gaze. Finally, she confessed, almost under her breath, “I don’t know.” 

Jaime had a feeling he knew what this was about. Likely the same thing that sat at the root of all of their conflicts. 

“For whatever it is worth to you, I’m not exactly looking forward to her coming here either.” 

“Why do you say that?” 

“She makes everything more difficult. She isn’t exactly even-tempered. My father is no doubt going to be insufferable as it is. I am sure he has deduced I helped Tyrion escape. I am equally sure he knows we are not currently expecting a child. This entire trip is simply an excuse to come berate me about both in person. And Cersei will be angrier about Tyrion than my father is. Strange as it sounds, the King is probably the only member of my family who will arrive without a prepared list of things to chastise me about.” 

“You are never going to make all of them happy with you, you know.” 

Jaime starred at her, seeming dumbfounded by her statement. 

“It hadn’t even occurred to me that I was trying.” 

“Since I have known you, that is all you have ever tried to do. And you aren’t failing for lack of trying. You are failing because the task is not possible."

Jaime looked away from her and spoke to the floor. 

“It feels like it should be.” 

As he said it, he looked to Brienne like a child who did not understand the injustice of why a beloved pet had to die. And like a flash of lightening, Brienne understood.

Profound realization permeated her voice as she said, “I see. You fear that if you cannot even earn the love of those closest and most loyal to you, then you truly are the lost cause everyone believes you to be.”

Jaime looked at her as if she had blithely shared a dark secret of his with a room full of strangers. 

“I think I’ve changed my mind. I’d like to go back to our sparring.” 

Ignoring his words, Brienne dropped her sword and moved to stand right in front of him.

“You are not a lost cause, Jaime Lannister. You can’t be. If I didn’t love you, none of this would hurt nearly as much as it does.”

At her words, Jaime donned an expression like she was returning to him a lost piece of himself. 

Brienne honestly could not tell if she initiated their kiss or if he did. But the moment their mouths met, he let his sword clatter to the floor as he pulled her into himself. At first the kiss was loving, more sweet than impassioned. 

However, that soon changed, and they both felt when it did. He opened his mouth as if he were ready to devour her and Brienne welcomed his onslaught. Their tongues rubbed aggressively together as their hands grasped feverishly to reach skin beneath clothing. 

Brienne found Jaime’s first and as she clawed and grasped at his back, she heard him inhale dramatically and let out a small guttural noise. The sound, small though it was, moved through her like a lightning bolt. She felt herself shaking with lust as Jaime’s hand found its way under her top to thumb at her nipple. 

The sensation sent distinct shocks of arousal down through to the core of her, which was aching and wet and desperate to feel him inside her once more. 

Eventually it became overwhelming and she broke off their kiss as she tried to steady herself against him. At that moment, Brienne surrendered the question of whether to preserve their bargain and started to contemplate the question of how close the nearest bedchamber was. 

Trying to tell him without words she was done with their silly agreement, Brienne moved her hand down to the ties in his breeches, intending to make her change of heart abundantly clear. 

However, the moment she began tugging at his trousers, Jaime pushed himself away from her almost as if breaking free of a magic spell. Brienne let her confusion show on her face and waited for him to explain his strange behavior. 

Yet no explanation was to come. Jaime simply stared at her for a moment as he caught his breath and then left her alone in the middle of the drafty hall, their two swords laying crossed and forgotten on the floor. 

~*~

Jaime had no earthly idea where in the castle he was headed, but an exact destination was not necessary. All that was necessary was to get away from Brienne. 

He soon came across one of the castle’s many guest bedrooms, let himself in, closed and locked the door, and made his way to the bed. Lying down on his back, Jaime took hold of his erection and thought about everything they could be doing right now had he not retreated like coward. 

He thought about Brienne’s long, muscular legs holding his hips in thrall as buried himself deeply inside her. He thought about her hands running through his hair and along his back, holding him with all her considerable strength. He thought about the breathless noises she made when he teased her nipples with his tongue, he thought about how it made him feel to rip her clothing off in the heat of passion, he thought about how the last time she rode him, they actually broke a bed. 

Despite Jaime’s attempts to preserve his own dignity, he made an embarrassingly loud sound as he ejaculated all over his own stomach. However, the intense pleasure of his orgasm only gave him a minute or two of blissful reprieve before he had to return to the question of why he had left Brienne standing in the middle of the hall like that. 

Her surrender could not have been clearer had she said it in so many words, and despite the fact that everything in his body screamed to be with her, something about it suddenly terrified Jaime, filled him with a primal fear that he could not explain. 

But he was going to have to soon enough. She would be looking for an explanation, and he could not simply tell her his panic was utterly unfounded and irrational. It was preposterous and she would assume he was just lying to cover up the real reason. 

Which she no doubt thought had something to do with Cersei. 

It was a logical conclusion, but not at all the correct one. Whatever this newfound anxiety was about, Jaime was certain it was not about Cersei. 

Once more, Jaime found himself longing for his little brother’s company. Tyrion would have been able to tell him what it was he was afraid of just as easily as he would have been able to give Jaime a report on the weather. _‘You were always bad at knowing how you feel.’_

The words rang in his head as he cleaned himself up, put himself to rights, and left the room cautiously for fear of encountering his wife. 

~*~ 

Brienne, for her part, had retreated to their chambers and started drinking almost immediately. For the life of her, she could not come up with a rational explanation for Jaime’s behavior, and the open question gave her no small amount of anxiety. Wine was good for easing it. 

Despite her linger insecurities about her looks, Brienne was actually fairly certain he had not stopped desiring her. The way he had kissed her today had been proof enough of that. His desire had been as palpable as ever, which had just made his sudden retreat all that more baffling. 

Cersei was the most obvious answer, but even that seemed like an ill-fitting explanation. Jaime had been fine having sex with her on their wedding night and the morning after, despite his continued attachment to her. He had not seemed fussed by the idea of being involved with the both of them simultaneously. If anything, that had seemed to be his ideal scenario up until recently. 

What on earth had changed? 

~*~

Jaime spent nearly an hour wondering around the castle, avoiding his room and his spouse but eventually found himself with nowhere left to take refuge. As he stood outside his own bedroom door, Jaime ran through all the terrifying things he had successfully faced down in his life. It was a long and formidable list. And while it was meant to give him strength, all it did was make him feel like a coward for being so afraid to open the door. 

Finally, he took a deep breath and turned the knob. He saw her immediately, sitting at the table by the fire drinking a glass of wine which did not look like her first. 

In a shockingly kind voice she asked, “Would you like some?”

“Yes,” Jaime heard himself say. 

He sat down next to her and watched her pour him a glass. When it was full, she slid it towards him, and he took a large sip while she waited patiently for him to account for himself. 

“I don’t know why I left you in the grand hall like that,” Jaime blurted out before he knew what else he was going to say. 

Staring avidly at the table he decided to take his chances with the truth, dumb as he knew it would sound. 

“I wanted you so badly I could barely breathe but I just couldn’t, and I swear to you I don’t know why. Please forgive me?”

Brienne watched him in silence for a long moment. She seemed to be sizing him up. Finally, she replied, “I don’t know that it needs forgiving. But I would like to understand.” 

“That makes two of us.” 

“I am in no mood to be toyed with.” 

“I am not toying with you and I’m not trying to be smart. I truly don’t know why I left you standing there like that. And I don't know why I am afraid to try again.”

Jaime could feel his face reddening, but he forced himself to look his wife in the eye in the hopes that it would affirm his honesty. She gazed at him through narrowed, searching eyes, and Jaime could not tell whether she was angling to find truth or fault in his story. 

At long last, she spoke again. 

“Fine, I will take you at your word provided you swear one thing to me.”

“What?”

“Swear to me it isn't about _her_.” 

Jaime instantly reached out and grabbed her hand across the small round table. 

“Brienne, I swear to you on my honor and my life, this isn’t about Cersei.” 

The ease with which Jaime was able to make the oath soothed Brienne. She was still deeply confused as to his abrupt about-face, but she felt as confident as it was possible to be that it was not, in fact, about Cersei. 

“Very well. I believe you. I cannot pretend to understand what your reservation is, but you were generous enough to allow me to set my terms in the beginning. It would be unworthy of me not to give you the same courtesy now, whatever your reasons.” 

Jaime breathed an audible sigh of relief. 

“Thank you.” 

They both took another hearty drink and gave way to the sound of the crackling fire for a good long while before Brienne asked one final thing of the man sitting across from her. 

“Will you promise me one more thing?”

“Name it.”

“Promise me...you’ll tell me why, when you figure it out.” 

“I promise.” 

It was all Brienne could ask of him for now, despite how much more she longed to ask of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm interested to see if anyone can guess what Jaime's afraid of...


	16. The Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime's family arrives for their visit and old patterns are renewed.

Jaime felt fortunate that the next two weeks provided a hearty distraction from his marital affairs. Preparing for a royal visit was no small task, and although the staff took care of most of the actual work, there was a great deal of higher-level coordination that kept Jaime and Brienne busy. They leaned into it, not avoiding one another exactly, but minimizing the time they spent alone together. 

Brienne took Jaime at his word that he needed space and time to understand his own feelings and kept herself occupied with a project which even the master of the house was not privy to. Deciding that she needed some metaphorical armor against Cersei’s inevitable animus, Brienne decided to start preparing and furnishing a nursery. 

Although she was not currently expecting, she was determined that situation would be different soon enough. Flaunting her future child by Jaime in Cersei’s face was an undeniably petty gesture, but Brienne decided she did not care. Cersei was mean-spirited and conniving, and she did not deserve Brienne’s deference. 

Furthermore, she reasoned, it may mollify Jaime’s father somewhat. If he thought they were genuinely looking forward to having a child, he may go a bit easier on Jaime. At least, that was her hope. 

Brienne found herself spending more and more time in the nursery every day, arranging the furniture just so, rearranging the wall-hangings to her liking, picking the perfect blanket and pillows for the crib. Rose, her handmaiden, had even hunted down a few old dusty boxes of children’s toys, no doubt relics of Jaime, Cersei, and Tyrion’s childhood. 

Brienne spent hours combing through them, picking the ones she liked that were still in decent condition and could be cleaned. She became particularly fond of a soft, stuffed lion doll that, despite the thick layer of dust in its mane, looked unused. She washed it gingerly, dried it by the fire, and placed it in the crib to patiently await its owner. In her more fanciful moments, she told herself the lion was keeping the bed warm for its future occupant. 

~*~

Two weeks and three days after they had received Tywin’s first missive, a raven arrived to let them know the royal party would be arriving the next day, likely at mid-afternoon. They were fully prepared by way of resources – food, guest rooms, and such. Mentally, however, Jaime was far from ready to face what lay ahead. 

The night before their arrival he got drunker than usual and practically passed out as soon as they retired from dinner. Brienne wished she could comfort him somehow but did not know what she could say or do to make him feel better, so she did nothing. 

The next day she rose early, bathed, and had her handmaiden help dress her in her best gown, all while Jaime slept. Finally, she roused him about an hour before the midday meal, and insisted he get ready for their guests. 

Jaime did as asked but she could tell the drink lingered in him. Likely his head was pounding as he bathed, dressed, and made a weak attempt to eat something. Brienne was sympathetic to his situation. She knew how much his family’s judgement weighed upon him. 

Just as the servants began clearing away their dishes, one of the pages arrived to inform them that the royal party was approaching. Jaime and Brienne both made haste down to the front gates. Most of the castle was assembled and ready to receive their visitors. 

They waited in silence, watching the front gate with rapt attention. However, Brienne made a point to stand to the left of Jaime so she could grasp his hand and offer him a bit of comfort. He said nothing when she reached for him, but turned to look at her and flashed her a brilliant smile that made her stomach flutter. 

The mists that often surrounded the castle were particularly thick that day, and it made it hard to see how far out the party was. However, finally, Jaime saw two Goldcloaks emerge from fog just on the far side of the drawbridge. They made their way across, followed by the royal carriage, a subsequent carriage, and four more Goldcloaks on horseback behind them. 

Jaime’s father stepped out of the royal carriage first, followed by the King, Queen, and the Queen Mother. 

Brienne performed a slightly awkward courtesy while Jaime bowed deeply to the king. 

“Your grace,” he said, “welcome to Casterly Rock. Your presence honors us all.” 

“Thank you, uncle,” the king said in a voice that wavered slightly. 

Tommen was a far, far cry from Joffrey, and wore his title timidly and with a great deal of reserve. 

“I hope the journey was not too taxing,” Jaime said, mostly to his father and sister. 

“Not at all. But I think we are all anxious to be shown to our rooms,” Tywin said in that eternally brusque and slightly menacing tone. 

“Of course,” Jaime replied. 

He led the way in with Brienne at his side. The tension was even worse than she had anticipated. She could feel both Cersei and Tywin watching them intently and it made her feel rather like she was being stalked by a large, deadly animal. 

Once inside, Jaime had the servants direct the guests to their various rooms after confirming dinner would be served at seven o’clock. He encouraged them to make themselves at home, assuring that the servants would bring them anything they required in the meantime. 

Most of the party left at once, appearing anxious to settle in and refresh themselves after their journey. But Tywin stayed in the front hall with Jaime and Brienne, clearly waiting for the opportunity to speak privately. 

For her part, Cersei noticed Tywin lingering, and seemed to be toying with the notion of staying put as well. But one aggressively quizzical look from her father sent her on her way. Brienne was grateful for that one small reprieve, at least. 

Once the rest of the party had dissipated, Tywin spared no time in asking, “So, how is married life treating both of you?” 

From his tone, it was clear what he was really asking, and Brienne could feel Jaime getting defensive next to her. 

“Very well, in fact. We have settled into a pleasant routine and we have been hosting many Westerland families in the last few weeks. They are all quite anxious to pay tribute to their new lord and meet their new lady, as you can imagine.” 

“Well, it pleases me to hear you keeping those relationships strong, but I do hope it is not interfering with any of your other duties as the Lord of Casterly Rock.” 

“I assure you, it is not,” Jaime said, smiling through gritted teeth. 

“Excellent. Alliances are important, but so is the strength and stability of one’s own family.” 

“I don’t disagree.” 

“You would be a fool if you did. Lady Brienne, how are you adjusting to your new home?” 

“Very well, my Lord. The Rock is much bigger than the castle I grew up in, but I think I have almost mastered my way around by now. I love the alcove with the lion fountain. Jaime and I often take our lunch there, when we do not go for a midday ride along the cliffs.” 

“The place looks much the same as it did when I left last. Have you made any changes I should know about?” 

Although his question was directed more towards Jaime, Brienne took the liberty of answering for him. 

“We have not made many significant changes, but I have taken the liberty of making one small one that I would love to share after dinner, once everyone has had an opportunity to rest up.” 

Jaime’s face remained fairly impassive, but Brienne could see his curiosity piqued. 

“I look forward to it,” Tywin replied.

Now speaking explicitly to Jaime, he continued. 

“I should like to go to my guest room, have a bath, and change. Afterwards I would like to speak with you in the office upstairs. Meet me there in an hour. Alone.” 

Brienne could see Jaime rankling at how his father was ordering him about. However, the younger man bit his tongue and nodded, and the older man took his leave.

Jaime waited until he was just out of sight before commenting, “I always forget just how much of an overbearing ass he is.” 

As they walked towards the stairs, with the aim of returning to their suite, Brienne asked, “Do you think it is about Tyrion?”

“I do. I doubt he wants to accuse me of aiding in treason in front of witnesses. However furious he is about Tyrion, there is no way he wants to jeopardize my place here. He wants a legitimate heir from me more than he wants Tyrion found, of that I am certain.” 

“You still haven’t heard any news of him since we arrived, have you?”

“No. And it does worry me. But had he been captured, I am sure I would have heard. Likely his last bird just never made it here. Killed in a storm or by a stray cat, probably.” 

Once inside their chambers, Jaime went straight to the tall pitcher of water on the table and poured himself a large glass. Drinking most of it in one long gulp, he then set the glass down and immediately began removing his outer clothing. 

“Does your head still hurt from last night?” Brienne asked, watching him. 

“Yes. I am going to try to have a nap to get rid of it before I have to face down my father once again.” 

She watched him get into bed and briefly toyed with the idea of lying down with him. But she did not want to wrinkle her dress and getting out of it and then back in would be more of an ordeal than it was worth. So Brienne simply poured herself a glass of wine and sat in front of the fire, watching the flames dance. 

Almost lost in thought, Jaime’s voice roused her a few minutes later to inquire, “I meant to ask, what change were you talking about making to my father?”

Brienne felt herself blush slightly as she turned to answer. 

“I...I have been setting up a nursery. I thought it might please your father to think we are truly looking forward to having a child.” 

Jaime gave her an enigmatic look. She sensed he was considering saying many things and trying to decide between them. 

Finally, in a slightly huskier voice, he asked, “You make it sound as if we are not truly looking forward to having a child.” 

Although it was phrased as a statement, it was clearly a question, and Brienne contemplated the best way to answer. 

“I did not mean to make it sound that way,” she said at last. 

Jaime gazed at her for a long moment, as he attempted to decode her deliberately vague statement. Eventually he let out a snort, and said, barely above a whisper, “Maybe I was wrong about you.”

Brienne’s brows furrowed.

“What do you mean?” 

Jaime sighed dramatically and sat more upright in the bed. 

“Back in King’s Landing, I thought it was nonsense – the idea of you ordering that dress before you publicly accepted my proposal as some kind of power play. It was suggested to me that it might be, and at the time, I scoffed at the idea. I said, you don’t play games like that. I am beginning to think I might have misread you.” 

“Who suggested it?” 

Had Jaime’s head been a little clearer, he would have had the good sense to avoid the subject of Cersei with Brienne. However, he was already in too deep, and since they were to have supper with her in a few hours, Jaime supposed her specter was already poised to disrupt their uneasy peace. 

“Cersei.” 

Brienne swallowed visibly and looked away from Jaime, back into the fire. She wanted to deny his accusation but the truth was she _had_ made a point of making up that nursery to bother Cersei, more than any of the other reasons which had justified it. She was that type of woman after all. Rather than deny that fact, she decided to lean into it. 

“It takes one to know one, I suppose. Perhaps I am more like her than you thought. Surely that’s a point in my favor?” 

Jaime surprise at this statement marched across his face, and she could tell he was sincerely struggling to gather a response. 

“I...don’t know.” 

“Is there anything you _do_ know?” Brienne huffed. 

At this, he became as still as a statue. His already sharp features hardened into a flat gaze that felt more resentful than angry as he replied in a deliberate monotone, “That I’d like to get some sleep before I see my father again.” 

“Very well, I shall leave you to it,” Brienne said, rising and making her way swiftly to the door. 

On the other side of it, she took a moment to collect herself before she left the master of the house to his own devices. 

When he could no longer hear her footsteps in the hall, Jaime fell back against the stack of pillows under him and stared at the canopy of his bed. He could not remember the last time he felt so many mixed emotions. 

Despite his still aching head, Jaime had seriously toyed with the notion of inviting Brienne into the bed with him to do more than sleep. However, her obvious resentment towards his unresolved feelings annoyed him; they also filled him with shame. He had no legitimate right to be annoyed. He was he one making things difficult and he knew it. 

Jaime closed his eyes, trying to put it out of his mind as he reached for sleep. But his body refused to cooperate. It kept asking after Brienne until he was forced to surrender. Pulling at the laces on his breeches, Jaime’s hand found his erection and he thought about how wonderful it would feel to rid her of her dress, lie her down on her back, and nibble at her ear as he fucked her senseless. 

The image made him hot all over and caused him to breathe erratically as he pumped his hand up and down the shaft. A mix of images flashed through his brain – her on their wedding night, her on their wedding morning, her in the bath they shared at Harrenhal, her in nothing but a ripped shift, her on top of him, her underneath him, her face as he ran his finger over the spot that made her orgasm, her as she frantically grasped his hair and scratched along his back. _Her._

With a light layer of sweat covering his body, and his arm aching from the effort, Jaime finally reached his climax and was able to find a moment’s peace. He let himself float in the relaxing aftermath for as long as he could, and then rose, and poured himself a small glass of wine. 

He was determined not to wake up with another hold-over like today’s but there was also no way he could face his father this afternoon, and dinner with his whole family tonight, completely sober. As that thought ran through his head, Jaime began to wonder if he was taking over more of Tyrion’s role in the family than he had ever intended. 

~*~

A little later, Jaime arrive at his office to find his father already there waiting for him. Tywin Lannister did not appear to have the slightest compunction about entering without escort, or Jaime’s say so. He was sitting behind the desk as if he was still the warden of Casterly Rock, and Jaime was still a fourteen-year-old boy who’d been sent there for a scolding. Which, in truth, he had been. 

And the for the first time since officially assuming his title, Jaime was overwhelmed with the urge to change as much about the castle as possible. Perhaps if it did not so resemble the days when his father ruled it with an iron fist, he might not act as if those days were still in progress. 

“You wanted to see me.” 

“Your wife is not yet pregnant, and your brother has escaped from taking the Black.”

“Are you suggesting the two incidences are somehow related?”

“Only in that I hold you responsible for both.”

“Well, as for my wife, you know as well as I do it usually takes more than a few tries to get pregnant. We have barely been married a month.”

“I hope you’ve given it more than a few tries.” 

Jaime paused as a hundred tell-offs ran through his head and he choked down every last one to avoid extending their conversation. 

“You will get your heir. Beyond that, I’m not discussing the issue with you in any more detail.” 

“And I suppose you are going to stand there and tell me you had nothing to do with Tyrion’s escape and disappearance.” 

Jaime stood there and considered his father for a long moment before proceeding cautiously. 

“Well initially I was planning on it, but frankly I lack the energy. The truth is, you called me here to discuss this in private because you have no intention of losing me as your heir, whether I did it or not. So let me make this abundantly clear to you – if you hunt down my brother and have him killed or sent up to The Wall, your house and your name dies with me. This is not an idle threat. I am more than capable of maintaining a completely celibate marriage.” 

Tywin’s face was inscrutable, but he let out the smallest smile as he replied, “Yes, I am aware of that. For your brother’s sake, I hope the reverse is equally true.” 

Jaime’s stomach dropped. He kept his expression as impassive as possible as he watched his father saunter out of the office, but he could practically feel the blood draining from his face.

Not only did the old man know Brienne was not pregnant, he also knew they were not having sex. How, Jaime could not even begin to fathom. He had taken great pains to avoid showing any overt signs of their celibacy to the help. 

He knew the servants were spying on them, of course, but unless he and his wife were somehow being watched in their private moments as well, Jaime could not begin to speculate how his father could be so well informed. 

As he made his way back to his rooms, lost in contemplation about the source of his father's information, Jaime nearly walked into his twin as he turned a corner. 

She smiled cat-like at him and said, seductively, “I’ve been looking for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, I have not abandoned this fic. It's just taking longer than before to update because of my work situation. I'm still determined to finish it! :)


	17. The Lions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne endures an awkward dinner and Jaime has a revelation.

Still genuinely rattled from his meeting with his father, Jaime could summon nothing in response beyond “Oh?” 

Cersei reached out to kiss him but Jaime pulled away, feeling nothing beyond a very mild sense of disgust. 

“No, I think that’s...done with for now.” 

Cersei gaped at him, clearly taken aback. 

“What on earth do you mean?”

“I mean, I intend on being faithful to my wife.”

Cersei’s eyebrows nearly disappeared into her hairline as she scoffed theatrically. 

“You cannot be serious. You aren’t even sleeping with her.”

“How do you know that?” Jaime asked, not bothering to hide his profound shock. 

“Father, of course,” she replied, as if he were half-witted. 

“He told you?” 

“Don’t be daft. He hardly tells me anything. But his reasons for coming out here were flimsy at best, and I knew this could not be just about Tyrion.” 

Jaime’s mind was reeling, and he felt the strong need to ditch his sister and find some privacy to clear his head. Not bothering to answer her, Jaime walked past the woman in his path and set a course back to the master’s chambers. Unsurprisingly, she followed. 

“Where is she, anyway, the cow you want to breed so badly?” 

Hot, boiling rage filled Jaime’s chest and he spun around and slammed Cersei up against a wall. He could see a mix of genuine fear and lust in her eyes.

“I do not care that you are my sister, a Lannister, the mother of my offspring, or the mother of the King himself. If you ever insult my wife to my face again, none of those things will spare you.” 

He hissed this threat at her under his breath and watched as she weighed how earnest he was. She eventually seemed to decide he meant it because a look of disgust and sincere confusion crossed her face. 

Barely above a whisper, Cersei asked, “What hold does she have over you?”

The question stumped Jaime and unsettled him. Unable to provide an answer, he released his hold on his twin and started to walk away. He was not two steps down the hall before he turned his head over his shoulder to warn, “Do not follow me.” 

She didn’t. 

~*~

A little over an hour later, Brienne returned to their chambers to ready herself for dinner. The Lord and Lady of Casterly Rock dressed in complete silence. For all the gold his family owned, Jaime could not have put into words the mix of emotions swirling around them as they did so. 

Soon they heard the bells toll the hour and made their way to the dining hall. They arrived just after Tywin, and he and Jaime had a momentary silent conflict over who would sit at the head of the table. Soon Tywin relented, clearly bowing to tradition over instinct. Jaime was now the Lord of Casterly Rock, and the Lord of the castle sits at the head of the table. 

Brienne stood to one side of Jaime, while his father stood to other to await the remaining guests. Soon after, the King arrived, Cersei and Marjorie in tow. King Tommen took the seat next to his grandfather, and Marjorie sat opposite her husband while Cersei sat next to him. 

Immediately the servants began pouring the wine and serving up the soup course. Brienne could feel Jaime distinctly switch into playing the good host. 

“Are all of your rooms to your satisfaction?” 

After a generally affirmative response, Jaime pressed on. 

“Did you have any trouble at all along the journey?” 

The dinner progressed in a manner of heightened, almost excessive, politeness, which was clearly how the Lannisters dealt with family tension in mixed company. Brienne had little experience with such things, being raised as an only child with a dead mother and a father who did not often beat around the bush. They were like a bunch of deadly animals, all circling each other and baring their teeth, but refusing to take a swipe for fear of not having the full advantage.

Brienne tried to contribute to the conversation when she could, but she knew her efforts were perfunctory, at best. With the King present, there was a limit to what could be introduced as a topic of conversation, and that shielded the evening from a lot of potential unpleasantness. 

However, soon after dessert, King Tommen declared himself to be tired and ready for bed. Marjorie practically leapt at the opportunity to see him put to bed, and Brienne felt both envious of her and happy for her. She would be spared the worst of it. 

As soon as they left, Cersei wasted no time. 

“Lady Brienne, I meant to say before, that gown you are wearing is...quite finely made. I did not think you had a taste for such things.” 

“I generally don’t, but this gown was a wedding gift from Lady Olenna Tyrell.” 

“Ahh, that explains the beautiful embroidery. It did seem familiar somehow. Well, it is a relief to me to know that you have a wardrobe befitting the Lannister name. I honestly feared you might receive us today wearing breeches and one of Jaime’s shirts. Although truth be told, his wardrobe is likely a bit small for you.” 

“Well, I am so glad I can put your fears about my wardrobe to rest.” 

“Oh, I meant to ask. Have you heard, the newest Lady Tully is expected to give birth any day now. With her husband only one night before he was captured, and still she managed to get herself with a child.” 

“A happy anomaly,” Jaime replied, in a dismissive voice. 

Brienne realized she would not get a better opening and decided it was time to reveal her efforts at making a nursery to her father- and sister-in-law. 

“That reminds me, if it is not too much trouble, I would love to share with you something I have been working on in the past few weeks. It is on the second floor.” 

Tywin eyed her briefly before replying, “Very well.” 

They all rose, and Brienne led the way up the stairs to her nearly perfected nursery.

As she threw the double-doors open, she intoned quite sincerely, “We may not be expecting yet, but that does not mean we are not anxious to have our first child. I very much look forward to the day that this room is put to its proper use.”

Tywin looked around appreciatively before he met Brienne’s eyes and replied, “As do we all.” 

“Indeed,” Cersei replied through gritted teeth. 

Just then, Brienne caught a glimpse of her husband and knew instantly something was very wrong. He was staring at the cradle with the stuffed lion doll, almost as if it held him in a trance. His skin was a shade of mealy green and he was making a face at it like it had poisoned him. 

“Jaime? Are you—”

Turning on his heel, Jaime avoided her gaze as he all but ran to the door with a pained, “Excuse me.” 

He made it maybe three or four steps down the hall before they all heard him retching. Brienne was the first to follow him out, Cersei and Tywin close on her heels. 

Jaime held himself up against the wall with his good hand as he aimed his final expulsions toward the floor. The puddle of sick already reeked, but Brienne was less concerned about that than getting Jaime back to their chambers. 

“Cersei, find a servant to clean up this mess and then bring the maester to the master bed chamber immediately,” Tywin curtly instructed. 

Cersei nodded obediently, flashing Jaime a sincerely concerned look as she scurried to do her father’s bidding. 

“You look unstable. Can you walk?” Brienne asked. 

“I think so,” Jaime replied, his voice wavering. 

He took a moment to catch his breath and then started walking tentatively towards their bed chambers. She and Tywin walked on either side of him, half a step behind, ready to help if needs be. 

The whole way she could see Jaime shaking ever so slightly. However, he managed to make it on his own power. Luckily it was not terribly far by design. Brienne deliberately selected that room for the nursery because it was a short walk from her chambers. 

Jaime fell down on their bed and Brienne immediately moved to relieve him of his shoes and excess clothing while Tywin poured him a large glass of water. 

He took the glass with still-shaking hands and gulped most of it down in one swallow. He seemed to get a bit of his color back afterwards, which eased the knot in Brienne’s stomach ever so slightly. 

Almost on instinct, Brienne put her hand against his forehead to check for a fever. He felt clammy, but not feverish, which she considered a good sign as well. 

“You do not seem to have a fever, thankfully,” Brienne said to him, as he downed the last of the water. 

“Would you get me another, please?” he asked, holding out the empty glass. 

Brienne took it and instantly fulfilled his request. 

Tywin stood at the foot of the bed next to one of the posters, watching his son with an inscrutable expression on his face. He looked like he was puzzling something out. 

Brienne mentally noted it was odd, but she did not care enough to give it any real thought at the moment. Sitting down next to Jaime’s prone figure, she handed him his water and continued to look him over for signs of what might be ailing him. 

His skin was still sweaty, and sickly pale, his breathing was abnormally labored, as if he were in pain, and he looked disoriented. 

Just as he finished his second glass, the maester arrived, with Cersei in tow. 

He formally greeted all of them, and then sat down on the bed next to Jaime to begin his work. He checked Jaime’s temperature, took his pulse, asked him a few questions Brienne inferred were meant to test his general mental capacity. 

Seeming satisfied that Jaime was of generally sound mind, the maester turned to the gathered observers and said, “I would now like to conduct a full examination of Ser Jaime. If you would please allow him some privacy. His wife may stay, if his Lordship has no objections.” 

“Actually, Lady Brienne, I would love an opportunity to speak with you in the hall for a moment,” Lord Tywin interjected. 

“No!” Jaime nearly croaked. “I demand my wife remain with me.” 

Although they all knew he was in no state to enforce his demand, they acquiesced all the same. Brienne stayed, and Tywin and Cersei took up residence in the hall. 

“My Lady, may I impose upon you to help me undress him fully?” 

Brienne nodded and helped remove the last of her husband’s clothing. She then stood to the side as the maester went about his work. He performed a variety of more extended tests, all the while asking Jaime various questions about everything from his recent diet and activities to his general health in the last few days. Jaime seemed mildly annoyed by the questions but answered them all studiously. 

Finally, the maester concluded, “I don’t believe there is anything seriously wrong with you, my Lord. The most likely explanation is you ate a bit of rotten fruit or bad cheese, and it simply disagreed with you. I recommend remaining in bed and attempting to go to sleep as soon as possible. In all likelihood, you will be back to your old self by morning.” 

He then turned to Brienne. 

“My Lady, I would advise you to keep watch over him tonight, and if he gets sick again, or has any other complaints, let me know immediately. However, I strongly suspect whatever was bothering him has already been expelled.” 

Brienne nodded as she replied, “Thank you.” 

“I will let Lord Tywin and the Queen Mother know that, in all likelihood, the worst has already past.” 

The maester took his leave and Brienne breathed a sigh of relief, both for Jaime’s health and that they were finally alone again. His family was a lot under the best of circumstances. 

“Could you help me put on some sleep clothes?” Jaime asked. 

Brienne nodded, and found the worn cotton shirt and loose threadbare breeches he preferred to wear to bed. She helped him re-dress and then asked if needed anything else before she went about undressing herself. 

After she was in her own sleep clothes, she built up their fire, blew out all the candles, and crawled into bed next to her husband who already appeared to be half asleep. 

Brienne settled herself under the covers and gazed up at the canopy of their bed for a long moment before Jaime’s voice rented the darkness. 

“I know what has been wrong...why I suddenly could not make love to you.”


	18. The Problem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime shares his revelation with Brienne and Tywin finally gets his chance to talk to his daughter-in-law alone

Brienne’s head snapped to the side to look at Jaime. Although it was quite dark, she could just make out his face staring at her. 

“Why?” she asked, breathlessly. 

“My mother’s death. She died in this very room, giving birth to Tyrion. I thought I had long since moved past it. But I think being back here again, after so many years away, has somehow opened up those wounds again. When I saw that lion doll, I felt my mother’s death all over, the way I felt it when I was seven. That is what made me sick.” 

Brienne had some familiarity with what he was describing. It happened to soldiers sometimes after terrible battles, even years and years later. If they saw or smelled or heard or felt something that brought to mind a particularly terrible memory, they would almost relive it as if it were happening again. 

“Why the lion doll?” Brienne asked. 

“My mother made it while she was pregnant with my brother. It was going to be a gift for Tyrion when he was born. I’m honestly amazed my father did not burn it after she died.” 

Jaime paused for a moment and then continued.

“He truly loved her, you know. And not just in the way Lords and Ladies sometimes grow to have affection for one another after being married for a time. He loved her the way knights love fair maidens in songs. He loved her as ardently as the most enamored of the poets ever loved a woman. Her death did things to him that I am not sure I will ever understand...things that I am not sure I could endure, if they ever happened to me.” 

His last statement was almost a whisper and Brienne absorbed the full weight of what he was saying. It certainly explained his change of heart. He did not want to lose her in childbirth the way his father had lost his mother. 

She was the first to concede it was a very rational fear. Women died in childbirth every day. She may have been stronger and heartier than most women, but that was no shield against the dangers of pregnancy. Nothing was. 

“My father even warned me against getting too emotionally attached to you. Remember when we left King’s Landing and he gave me a note to read on the trip? Most of it was the same nonsense he’s been harping on my whole life – duty to family, preserving the Lannister legacy. But at the end, he said – _I advise against becoming too emotionally attached to your new wife._ Initially I thought he was merely advising I avoid becoming too conciliatory to your desires and whims. But I think it was about my mother. I think he was trying to spare me the kind of pain he endured when he lost her.” 

Brienne let his revelation hang in the silence for a short time before she spoke. 

“What about your sister?”

“What do you mean?”

“Were you not afraid she would die baring your children?” 

She heard Jaime sigh heavily next to her as he pieced together an answer. 

“Cersei was the Queen. If she had not had her children by me, she would have had them by Robert Baratheon, or someone else. There was no possibility of sparing her that. But our entire country will not fall into political instability if you and I never have a child.” 

“But my House will die out if I do not. Furthermore, you know your father will have it out for your brother as long as we remain childless.”

“I know. And I still want to have children with you. But it terrifies me to think that I could lose you that way.”

Brienne tried to think up some way to reassure him, soothe his fears, but every placation she devised sounded naïve, disingenuous, or just plain false, even in her own head. Finally she decided the best thing to do would be to let it lie for tonight. 

Stroking his face lightly, she said, “I understand how you feel. But we do not need to solve the issue right now. We should both get some sleep and let this be until the morning.” 

Jaime leaned over and gave her lingering, sweet kiss. 

“I do love you, you know. If I did not, there would not be a problem.” 

His words riled up such a strong emotional response, Brienne felt tears form in the corners of her eyes. Grateful for the darkness, she let them fall against her pillow while she tried to breathe normally. 

“I love you, too,” she finally heard herself say, her voice wavering ever so slightly. 

He fell asleep long before she did. Brienne watched the fire reduce itself to embers as she grasped for any solution to their problem. Nothing came to mind. 

~*~

Brienne was not surprised to wake up rather late the next day, or to find that Jaime was already up and about. 

Brienne rose immediately and dressed herself while Jaime breakfasted at the small table by the fire. Neither brought up the events of the previous evening, though awareness of it clung to their every word and gesture. 

It was not so much avoidance as it was resignation that there was not anything in particular to be done. At least not for the moment. 

However, Jaime’s revelation had made one significant improvement to their relationship. There was no more sense of antagonism or conflict. They still had a problem, but at least they were fully on the same side in fighting it, rather than at odds with one another. 

They were just preparing to leave their room and take another audience with their guests when they heard a knock at the door followed by Tywin’s voice. 

“Jaime, Lady Brienne, I would beg a word.” 

Jaime hurried over and opened the door. 

“You seem back to good health.” 

“I am. As I am sure the maester told you, it was likely a bit of bad food that found its way out. I have no lingering sickness.” 

“Excellent. You have already breakfasted, I assume?” 

“Yes.” 

“Good. I would like you to accompany myself and the King this morning to oversee the military drills. I think it would do the boy good to start learning what it means to command an army.”

Jaime nodded as he replied, “I will armor myself and meet you both down in the practice yard imminently.” 

“Very well.”

Tywin took his leave and Jaime turned to his wife.

“Would you care to join us in the yard?” 

Brienne considered it but landed on a refusal. She wanted some time alone to think. 

“No, I think I would prefer to stay here and keep my own company for a while.” 

“As you wish.” 

After Jaime departed, Brienne sat by the fire for a bit, but soon felt herself drawn to the conspicuously unoccupied room down the hall. Eventually she surrendered and returned to the nursery. 

As was often her habit, she picked up the stuffed lion and gazed at it. However, the experience had a new layer, now that she knew more about the little doll’s legacy. Without trying, she found herself imagining the former Lady of Casterly Rock working away on it, stitching and stuffing, making one lion with her hands while she made another in her stomach. 

Although she knew it would not fix Jaime’s larger anxiety, Brienne was soon struck by an impulse to remake the doll so it did not just bear the misery of its former life. It took her a little while to hunt down all the supplies, but soon enough she returned to the nursery with a section of blue cloth, needle, and gold thread. 

Sitting down in a rocking chair, Brienne went to work. She had never been particularly good at sewing or embroidery, but her serviceable skills were good enough for the task at hand. She lost herself in the effort, outlining the crescent moon and star bursts of her family’s crest. 

Indeed, she so lost herself in the effort, she nearly jumped when Tywin Lannister asked her, from inside the doorway, “What are you working on?”

Brienne held her left hand to her chest as she took a few deep, steadying breathes. 

“My Lord, you frightened me,” Brienne replied. 

Regaining her composure, Brienne rose to look her father-in-law in the eye. As she did so, she put the doll and her half-embroidered cloth down on her vacated seat. 

“Apologies, it was not my intention. Might we speak alone for a moment?” 

Although he phrased it as a question, there was clearly no way Brienne could refuse him. 

“Of course.” 

“Forgive my frankness, Lady Brienne, but I wish to understand the full extent of your relations with my son, sexual and otherwise. He is not exactly forthcoming with me, and if I am to help ensure a Lannister heir is born as soon as possible, I must understand what the problem is between you.” 

Brienne felt herself blush slightly, though she was not particularly taken aback by his line of inquiry. In fact, she suspected that was his true purpose in coming all the way out here – to talk to her, not Jaime. 

Sighing deeply, Brienne looked her father-in-law straight in the eye as she weighed exactly what to tell him. She did not plan to outright lie, as she knew it would be pointless. But she also felt it was important to protect Jaime’s privacy. 

“My Lord, you are correct in your inference that we have not been regularly intimate since our wedding. At first this was at my request and counter to your son’s wishes.” 

“At first. And what about now?” 

“Please rest assured, both Jaime and I want children.”

“Is there some physical issue that prevents consummation?” 

Despite her efforts to remain composed, Brienne broke eye contact and looked down at her clasped hands, trying to suppress her embarrassment. 

“No, there is nothing physically wrong with either of us.” 

“Well I already know you do not lack affection for one another. He is transparently besotted with you, and the inverse appears equally true. Are you in some kind of quarrel?” 

Doing her best to suppress her joy at his offhand observation about their affections, Brienne replied “No, that is not it.” 

“Is my son simply determined to spite me?” 

Despite herself, Brienne let out a small chuckle at the question. 

“Although he may be tempted by that desire on occasion, that is not it either.” 

Tywin considered Brienne for a moment in silence, and then began pacing around the nursery. 

“I must confess to you, Lady Brienne, my eldest son has always been a mystery to me. His sister and younger brother both frustrate me as much as he does. Often more so. But the both of them I understand through and through. Jaime has always been...odd. I cannot pretend to grasp what motivates him to do much of what he does, and I am sure his reticence to actively pursue fatherhood has some rationale that is also fundamentally obscure to me.”

Tywin paused for a moment, and looked at Brienne significantly, as if expecting her to make Jaime’s opaque motives clear to him. When she did not, Tywin continued.

“I respect your impulse to keep his confidence. Loyalty to a husband befits a wife. So, let me ask you this, instead. Is there anything you can think of – anything at all – which might help move this process in a more...fertile direction?”

Brienne was honestly stumped by the question. Which, of course, was exactly the problem. 

“In truth, my Lord, I do not know. I do not feel comfortable sharing the particulars of the situation with you. I will assure you that should any solution become available to us, I will be as anxious as you to avail myself of it. Your desires and mine are in alignment here.” 

“That I believe. Well, I appreciate your honesty, Lady Brienne. If you do happen to think of any solution or aid in this predicament, know that I will be at the ready to provide whatever is within my considerable power to give.” 

“I understand my Lord. Should I think of anything, I will not hesitate to ask.” 

“Very good. I must return to the yard.” 

With that, Tywin left, and Brienne returned to her sewing. 

~*~

Soon enough, Brienne had fashioned a little cape for the lion doll baring her house crest. Tucking it back in the cradle, Brienne admired her handiwork. She knew it to be nothing more than a symbolic gesture, and one not executed with any high degree of skill. But it pleased her nonetheless. 

Feeling restless, she decided to saddle up her horse and take a ride. She and Jaime often rode along the cliffs, but today Brienne felt the pull of the nearby forest and decided to do a bit of exploring. 

At first, she stayed on the main path but soon found herself following a small side road that was barely wide enough in places for her horse to pass. Just as the thought occurred to her that she should turn back, she noticed a small hut a few stone-throws away from the path, amidst the trees. It was covered in moss, and the chimney was smoking. Someone was home. 

Curious, but a bit wary, Brienne dismounted her horse and drew her sword. Once she had secured her mare, Brienne approached the hut cautiously. When she was about three steps from the door, it flew open and a haggard old woman with piercing, dark eyes greeted her. 

“Brienne of Tarth, I have been expecting you.”


	19. The Spell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne gets some welcome news, and her relationship with Jaime heats back up.

Brienne blinked, briefly at a loss for words. 

“I’m sorry, how do you know—” 

“Everyone in the Seven Kingdoms knows Ser Jaime took you as his bride.” 

“No, I was going to ask how you could have been expecting me. I had no plans to come here, I stumbled across this place by accident.” 

“Just because you do not plan on something does not make it an accident.” 

“I’m sorry, who are you?” 

“I am called Maggy. And I have lived in these woods since before you were a babe. Please, join me.” 

Brienne felt a bit uneasy, but with her sword in her hand, she was fairly certain this elderly forest witch could not get the better of her. And a feeling deep in her gut told her this woman had something of importance to share with her. 

Brienne followed her inside. The hut was filled, wall to wall, with vials of liquids and powders, all different shapes and colors. Plants hung from the ceiling, some of them deliberately placed there, others apparently just growing there at their leisure. 

The room was filled with a musky smoke which Brienne could not decide if it smelled pleasant or not. On the floor, two cushions abutted a tree stump which apparently served as this woman’s dining table. Tea was set out, one steaming pot and two cups. It really did look as if they had a standing appointment with one another. 

The old woman gestured for Brienne to take a seat on one of the cushions, then she took the other and poured them both a cup from the pot. From the smell and appearance, it looked to be mint. 

Brienne let Maggy take the first sip and then drank once she felt certain it did not contain poison. It was, indeed, mint, but with a hint of something else Brienne could not identify. 

“You have come to me today because of the children your husband fears he will put inside you.” 

Brienne coughed her surprise at hearing this just as she took her second sip.

When she finally caught her breath again, she asked, “How on earth—” 

“This will be a great deal easier if you do not ask such questions. You have a problem, I have a solution. However, I require payment up front.” 

She glanced at Brienne’s leather side-pouch, which did hold a healthy stack of gold. Brienne thought for a moment about saying no and just leaving. But she also knew no other solutions were available to her at present, and if she lost a few gold pieces on nothing more than a clever trick, it was no great loss. 

Reaching into the pouch, Brienne extracted a handful of coins, and passed them over to the witch who seemed to make them disappear into the palm of her hand. 

She then reached out and grabbed both of Brienne’s hands, and turned them palms up to examine them intently. For such a small and elderly creature, she was surprisingly strong. She gazed at every inch of skin on Brienne’s calloused hands before surrendering them and taking a long sip of her tea. 

After she swallowed, she declared, “Your lion’s fears are unfounded. You will have six pregnancies, and seven children by the man you have married, and both of you will live to see all of your cubs grown. Furthermore, your first child is not far away. The next time your husband expels inside of you, the first will be in the making.”

“But he refuses consummation.”

“I know.” 

The old woman rose from her cushion and went to what appeared to be her worktable. She retrieved a small ornamental wreath. It was a bit bigger than Brienne’s palm, and was shaped like a circle with a V in the middle. Brienne could not determine the type of wood it was composed of, but it was laced with Hawthorn flowers. It hung from a braided string made of three ribbons, one red, one blue, and one gold. 

She displayed it to Brienne and said, “You must hang it on your bedpost, on his side of the bed. It will soak up the worst of his fears and memories. Let him sleep under it for seven nights. On the eighth night, he will give you your first child.” 

Brienne reached out for it, but Maggy held it back. 

“Wait, it requires one final ingredient.” 

She put the wreath down on the table in between them, and then asked Brienne to hold her hand up directly above it. When Brienne did, the witch grabbed her sword, which she had left lying on the ground, and raised it to Brienne’s palm.

“What are you doing?” 

“The spell requires three drops of your blood, purged by the Valyrian steel he gifted you.” 

Brienne hesitated for a moment, and then nodded. The witch cut the side of her palm and Brienne let the blood spill on the wreath. The older woman then dropped the sword, grabbed the wreath, brought it to eye-level, and said a few words in a language Brienne did not recognize. 

She then handed it back to Brienne and smiled. 

“Thank you,” Brienne said, wondering whether she should finish her tea or just take her leave at once. 

Deciding sooner was preferable to later, for she was no doubt already missed, Brienne rose, re-sheathed her sword, and placed the wreath in her leather pouch. 

“Thank you for the tea and for your...assistance. I must be on my way.” 

“Lady Brienne, before you go, one final word. You may have been born a child of Tarth, but you married to become a Lannister. And a Lannister always pays their debts. It would behoove you to remember that the next time we meet.” 

Brienne’s brows furrowed, but she nodded solemnly and then showed herself out of the hut. The midday sun beat down on her as she made her way back to her horse, mounted it, and rode back to the castle at a speed not entirely warranted. 

~*~

As soon as she arrived, she made her way to her chambers to find Jaime already there having his midday meal. A place was set for her, and she knew the moment she laid eyes on him that he had been waiting for her return. 

“Where have you been?” 

“I took a ride.” 

“Along the cliffs?” 

“No, I decided to explore a bit of the nearby forest.” 

Brienne debated telling him about her encounter with Maggy the forest witch, but decided against it. 

“What happened to your hand?” 

Jaime looked significantly at the makeshift bandage Brienne had fashioned from a piece of torn sleeve, which sported a few visible drops of blood. 

“Nothing. I grazed a tree with particularly sharp barbs and managed to cut myself.” 

“Should I call for the maester?” 

“It is a graze. I will be fine. What is for lunch? I am famished.” 

They sat down together and shared a convivial meal while Jaime recounted the events of the morning. Apparently the King had fallen off his horse while they were overseeing the infantry’s attack formation and it was quite a to-do. 

Jaime talked of their military drills and Brienne half listened, all the while wondering if she should tell her husband anything about her encounters with Tywin or the forest witch earlier that day. He did not appear to know that his father had visited her in his absence, and Brienne was inclined to think that was for the best. Jaime did not need any more reasons to fight with the man. 

Brienne also felt fairly certain telling him of her experience in the forest would bring nothing but derision. Jaime did not strike her as the type of person to put faith in such things. Brienne was not really that type of person either. But, she reasoned, at worst it was harmless to try. 

“My father did share with me some good news, actually. Apparently, their stay here at Casterly Rock will be shorter than originally planned. He wants the King to visit a few other Westerland families while they are in this part of the country. They will be with us another five or six days, and then they will depart for Ashemark, followed by The Golden Tooth. We only have to host them for a week, not the two we had originally anticipated.”

Brienne felt herself smile sincerely. 

“That is good news.” 

Though the royal family had been there all of a day, Brienne already missed her normal life and routine. She was particularly anxious to get some real time alone with Jaime, now that much of their strife was past them.

~*~

Jaime soon returned to yard for the infantry’s afternoon drills, and Brienne once again stayed behind, this time to do as Maggy bid regarding the wreath. It occurred to her, as she reached to hang the ornament over the bedpost, that the royal family’s timeline for departure matched up perfectly to the night Jaime allegedly was to give her their first child. 

It boded well for the prophecy. Jaime would no doubt be in a congenial and celebratory mood when his family departed. 

Once Brienne had hung the wreath to her satisfaction, she then had a bath drawn and spent a good amount of her afternoon enjoying the warm water as she thought about what Maggy told her of her future children. Six pregnancies, seven children.

What would she name them all? One, for sure, would be Galladon, for her brother. One would be Catelyn, for Lady Stark. Those were her only two certainties. She suspected Jaime would have a few names he was partial to as well. She made a mental note to ask him about it the next time the opportunity felt right. 

As Brienne rose from her bath, dried herself off, and laid out her clothes for the evening meal, she pondered the question of why she trusted the old crone’s predictions. She could provide herself with no particular answer that satisfied. 

Soon enough Jaime returned to their suite to find Brienne in nothing but her shift, sipping wine by the fire. Per usual, the sight of her in any state of undress caused his pulse to jump and a feverish heat to envelop his whole body. 

Jaime still could not bring himself to bed her. Yet the paralyzing fear that had gripped him before felt a bit softer around the edges somehow, almost like a dream that was beginning to fade with the light of day. 

“Is something the matter? You looked flushed.” 

Jaime shook his head vigorously. 

“No, I am fine. However, I would like a fresh bath drawn.” 

Brienne nodded and rose from her seat to put on her dressing gown. She then called for his manservant, who brought fresh heated water for the master’s bath. 

When the servants were gone again, Brienne took off the dressing gown and lounged at the table once more in her shift, Jaime bathing just on the other side of the privacy shield. 

“Where in the forest did you go wandering today?” 

“I stayed on the main road east for a while, but then I veered off on a smaller path and came across an old woman living in the woods. Calls herself Maggy.”

“You met the forest witch?”

“Apparently. How long has she been living in this area, do you know?” 

“I don’t, in fact. The townspeople have been trading rumors about her for as long as I can recall. She has lived here since before I was born. Allegedly she brews up love spells and bad luck charms and fertility potions and tells people their fortunes. Obvious nonsense.” 

In the face of Brienne’s silence, Jaime found himself inquiring, “Did you actually speak with her?” 

“Yes, briefly.” 

“So, did she tell you your fortune?” Jaime asked, the mocking in his voice readily apparent. 

“As a matter of fact, she did.” 

“And?” 

It was clear to Brienne Jaime was asking for pure amusement and her instincts told her not to open Maggy's prophecy about their future children up to his ridicule. It felt as if it would curse the whole affair, which was already so delicate. 

“Nothing of great consequence.” 

“Well, that’s disappointing. Might have made for an amusing story had she told you something particularly fanciful or grandiose.” 

“I suppose...would you like me to lay out some dinner clothes for you?” 

“If you do not mind.” 

Brienne went to the closet and selected an outfit for him which included her favorite shirt of his – light green with gold embroidery. It brought out his eyes so beautifully. 

Just as she was finishing, she heard a slosh of water that could only be him rising from the bath. She listened to the water drip off him for a moment and then heard him step out of the tub. The towel that hung over the privacy shield disappeared behind it and the faint sound of cloth patting down skin was discernible. 

Brienne listened, tempted to offer help but feeling just a bit too shy yet to try anything that blunt. After another moment, he emerged from behind the privacy shield, the towel wrapped around his waist, his body covered in small beads of moisture, his hair clean and damp. 

Brienne had seen his beauty in many different formations by now; she stared into the depths of it daily. Yet somehow, in moments such as this, it still held the power to leave her breathless and dumbstruck. 

She must have been staring a bit too intently because as Jaime approached her next to the bed, his face became quizzical. 

“You look odd. Is something the matter?” 

Brienne shook her head and forced herself to look away from him. 

“No, it’s nothing.” 

Jaime seemed unconvinced. 

“Are you alright? You seem...not your usual self today.” 

“I’m fine, I promise. I think the disruption in our routine has put me a bit out of sorts.” 

Jaime gazed skeptically at her for another moment and then seemed to decide it was not worth pursuing further. He began drying himself off in earnest, but Brienne could tell he was struggling. 

“Would you like me to call your manservant to help you?” 

“No. I hate asking them for help of that sort. Makes me feel like an infirm old man.” 

Though Brienne knew she was playing with fire, the temptation was too great, and she continued by asking, “Would you like me to help you?” 

The huskiness in her tone was unmistakable and Jaime paused his ministrations, considering his wife intently. Brienne could almost see the war the question waged in his brain. On the one hand, the offer clearly appealed to him. On the other, he was not ready for full consummation. 

“I...” 

Before he could finish, Brienne felt the impulse to be bold. She closed the few small steps between them, grabbed his towel, and simply began the task.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO SORRY for being gone for this long. (Lot of personal stuff has been happening) 
> 
> Also, I'll confess, I've started a THIRD Braime fic that is taking up a fair amount of my writing time. It's a shipwreck premise. The two of them alone on an island. I love it so far, but I'm trying to finish this one and my other one (Faithful) before I start posting the new one. We'll see if that actually happens.
> 
> I'm honestly waffling over whether to finish my two WIPs before posting chapters for the new one, or if I should just surrender and have 3 WIPs going at once. If you have thoughts, I'd genuinely love to know. 
> 
> Finally, I promise the next chapter for this one will come soon (pun intended).


	20. The Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne take an important step, and tensions between Jaime and Tywin rise once again.

Jaime appeared taken aback for a moment, staring at her with wide eyes. He seemed on the verge of protesting, and then stopped himself and simply watched her go about the task. 

She started by rubbing the towel across his chest and down both of his arms. Then she circled around to wipe down his back, just grazing the curvature of his rear end before she knelt down in front of him and started on his legs. 

He was not fully aroused by this point, but his cock was visibly growing, and Brienne could not help but stare as she ran the towel purposefully over his damp, muscular legs, one at a time. 

Jaime watched her staring, and it was making him more aroused, despite his best attempts to stop his body from betraying his feelings. He had been afraid of this as soon as she had offered, and had been on the verge of telling her no. But somehow he had not found it within himself to reject the offer, particularly after she had so boldly taken charge. 

Despite her lumbering size and strength, she was not a particularly controlling or commanding person. In her very knightly fashion, she seemed to approach things mostly with an eye towards being of service and following another’s lead. On the rare occasions when she simply took charge, Jaime found it too erotic to resist, and this was no exception. 

Her task complete, Brienne rose and stood nose to nose with him, clutching the towel between their bodies. The air seemed to vibrate with possibilities, many of them warm, and aching, and primal. 

“Thank you,” Jaime nearly whispered. 

“You are welcome,” Brienne replied even softer, dropping the towel as she did so and leaning in to take his erection in her hand. 

She looked in Jaime’s eyes and saw them darken, taking on that soft, aggressive quality they held whenever he lusted for her. She held his gaze as she moved her hand up and down his still growing cock, feeling it twitch emphatically in her hand. 

Jaime brought his left hand up, grabbed her head and kissed her deeply. In response, Brienne felt her nipples harden and the low thrum in her abdomen become a heavy ache. She continued to stroke him as they kissed, and Brienne could tell he was not far from expelling in her hand when he started to grasp at her back and make little staccato sounds in his throat. 

Pulling away from their kiss, he pleaded, “The bed.” 

They laid down, Brienne on her side, Jaime on his back with his fully erect, bright pink cock lying flat against his stomach. Brienne continued her ministrations for another moment before Jaime said, raggedly, “Kneel over me, so I can touch you.”

Brienne immediately did as he asked, placing her left knee between his legs and her right knee on the outside of his left, to make herself more accessible to his good hand. Jaime cupped the juncture between her legs, and as always, the feeling of her arousal nearly sent him over the edge. 

He pushed the heel of his hand against her pubic bone and used his two longest fingers to stroke between her cleft. He soon found the spot that made her body spasm and methodically stroked her there as her thighs aggressively hugged his half-bent leg. 

She continued to pump his stiff cock erratically for a short time, but eventually she became too overwhelmed with her own pleasure to keep it up. Instead, she dropped to her elbows, so the full weight of her body rested on his, and simply leveraged herself against his hand and leg rhythmically. 

The simple friction of her body against his was enough stimulation to keep Jaime on the verge of orgasming. Yet the tipping point remained just out of reach, until Jaime began licking and softly biting at Brienne’s long neck. Almost instantly her thighs clutched at his even harder, and her hips started jolting erratically. 

“Jaime, _Jaime_...”

The sound of his name on her lips like that lost him what control he had left. Letting out a low guttural exclamation, Jaime expelled between their two bodies while Brienne still rocked against his hand and thigh, looking for her release. 

He could tell she was struggling to get over the edge, and when his aftershocks quieted, Jaime whispered in her ear, “Get on your back.” 

Brienne did as he requested, rolling over on the left side of him to face the canopy. After she was off, Jaime urged her to spin so her head was at the foot of the bed and her legs were on either side of him, her shift pushed up to her waist. 

He crouched over her, leaving a small trail of kisses below her belly button, before placing his lips right up against the hot, wet core of her. Brienne clung to the bed, doing her best to keep her hips flat as his tongue pierced her swollen folds and did its best to torture her. 

Time stretched out and Brienne felt every fleeting touch distinctly and deeply. She rocked softly to the strokes of his tongue, but she longed to feel him more deeply within her. Knowing that was what she needed, Brienne grabbed blindly for Jaime’s left wrist, resting by her thigh, and guided his hand up to her opening. 

“I want to feel you inside me,” she said, and Jaime cottoned on almost instantly. 

Straightening his two longest fingers, he pushed them into her slick opening, using his thumb to stimulate her while she rocked against his hand once again. He could feel the walls of her rhythmically tightening and loosening around his fingers, and he did his best to match the pace at which she rocked. He could feel her getting even wetter and increased the pressure of his thrusts until her hips were moving at a frenzy. 

On impulse, Jaime leaned his head over her torso and took one of her nipples in his mouth, sucking hard through the thin fabric that covered them. Her reaction was almost instantaneous. Her hands reached up to grab his shoulders, and she muffled a moan while the muscles around his fingers contracted repeatedly with shocking force. 

When her body finally calmed, Jaime slowly extricated his hand, and felt the stimulation pulse through her in the form of a small aftershock. He wiped her wetness on the bedspread beneath them and then took up just beside her, lying on his back to stare at the canopy, just to the right of her prone form. 

The idea of full consummation with her still filled him with enough dread that he knew it was not yet an option. However, the horror did not feel quite so sharp, or all-consuming, as it had before. For the first time since he had experienced that particular sensation of terror, it felt conquerable. 

~*~ 

The two lay in silence for a while, each lost in their thoughts and enjoying the afterglow of their sex too much to sacrifice it. However, eventually, the ticking of time urged them to rise. Dinner would be soon. 

They deliberately faced away from each other as they dressed, trying to avoid the temptation to go another round. It was not easy. 

The mounting silence nearly crackled with all the erotic possibilities that lay before them and it made it hard to think of something benign to discuss. Eventually, Brienne circled back to a question that had hovered in her mind earlier that day. 

“If at some point in the future, we do end up having children together...what would you want to call them?” 

Jaime’s face was a parade of minute expressions – surprise, confusion, longing, anxiety, softness. 

“One would be Arthur, for sure. For the man who knighted me. I always admired him. Perhaps Joanna as well, for my mother. What about you?”

“Galladon, for my brother who died. And perhaps Catelyn—” 

“For Lady Stark, of course. That’s already four. We may want to slow down; I think we are getting a bit ahead of ourselves.”

“It is not a promise, merely a wish.” 

“If you could decide, how many would you choose to have?”

Brienne lapsed into silence as she contemplated Jaime’s question. She tried not to think of the old woman’s prediction but the number seven returned to her over and over as she asked herself what she would choose, were it up to her. She had already gotten quite attached to the idea. 

“Six, perhaps seven.” 

Jaime’s brows jumped toward his hairline. 

“That many? Well, you may want to reserve your opinion on it fully until you give birth to one. It is said that very few things short of torture are as painful as giving birth.” 

“I am stronger than most women.”

“I cannot deny that. But I am sure even for you it would be an ordeal.”

Brienne met Jaime’s eyes fully as she intoned, “It would be worth it.” 

After a long moment of silence, Jaime replied, barely above a whisper, “Yes, suspect it would.” 

Fully dressed by this point, Jaime walked over to the table, poured two glasses of wine and handed one to Brienne as he continued, “But enough about the future in years to come, we ought to prepare for what lies ahead of us tonight.” 

His large swig made his meaning all too clear. 

“In less than a week they will be gone,” Brienne reassured him. 

“Yes, but a week is a very long time to be almost the sole point of attention for my father. The man is barely tolerable for the length of a conversation.” 

Brienne considered once again telling Jaime about her encounter with Tywin earlier that day. She felt increasingly uneasy keeping it from him. Yet she truly did not want to provoke any hostility between the two men, given how at odds they were by default. 

Her goal for the moment was getting through the next few days with as little antagonism as possible. She did not want to do anything that felt like it might place the old woman’s prediction in jeopardy. 

With one sip left in her goblet, Brienne and Jaime heard the bells toll the hour and they dutifully went down to share dinner with their guests. 

~*~ 

It was less of an ordeal than Jaime had anticipated, at least initially. His father took it upon himself to spend much of the meal drilling the King about the things he had learned earlier regarding battlefield command. As such, the Lord and Lady of Casterly Rock got a temporary reprieve from Tywin’s direct attentions. 

Jaime, in particular, felt sympathy for the boy. He remembered all too well similar dinners with his father, where his day’s training was put to an elaborate interrogation. It was unpleasant, to be sure. But Jaime also had to concede it was important. His father may have been unnecessarily harsh in his manner, but a King needed to understand how to command a military. His father was not wrong to insist the boy learn. 

Every so often Jaime would jump in on the King’s behalf, giving him a hint or gently suggesting to his own father that perhaps that was enough, and they should let the boy enjoy his dinner. 

Brienne watched this affair with deeply mixed feelings. On the one hand, it was quite pleasurable to see Jaime defend Tommen against the worst of Tywin’s impositions. He showed a strong paternal protectiveness for the King despite being, by law, only his uncle. 

However, she knew very well what the boy really was to him; as much as his fatherly protectiveness was endearing, it also felt ever so slightly like a slap in the face to her. Somehow it made her feel both warm _and_ resentful toward Jaime by very quick turns. 

This continued until the King himself insisted on going to bed. Once again, Marjorie followed in his wake, and this left Brienne to endure the circling of three full-blooded lions who never seemed to rest. 

“You ought not coddle the boy so much, Jaime. His mother does quite enough of that, and it does no one any good for you to pile on, least of all the boy. He is too soft, and it will ruin him, and this country, if we are not careful.” 

Jaime visibly rolled his eyes.

“Tommen is not even ten years old. He may be the King, but he remains a boy, and you treating him as if he were already a man will not age him any faster. A great many things are within your power to buy, command, or cajole, but the passing of time is not one of them.” 

Tywin looked Jaime deeply in the eyes, and smiled a halted, almost sinister smile. 

Finally he said, “You are half right.” 

It seemed intentionally enigmatic. In response, Jaime made eye contact with Brienne and seemed to say with utter silence: _See what I had to put up with my whole life?_

Cersei soon took it upon herself to fill the gap left by her father’s silence. 

“Lady Brienne, how did you occupy yourself today? I understand you did not join my brother and father in the command training.” 

“True, I did not. I spent a bit more time fixing up our nursery and then I went out for a ride in the woods. Met an interesting hermit woman who lives off one of the side trails. Jaime tells me she is something of a local legend.”

She was trying to hide it, but Jaime could tell Cersei was unnerved. Her eyes went wide and her skin turned abnormally pale as she took a very long sip of wine from her glass, all while avoiding his gaze. 

Jaime had no intention of probing about it further in front of their father, but he made a mental note to ask her about it as soon as possible. She was not an easily rattled woman, and something that distressing to her was worth knowing about, at the very least. 

“Lady Brienne was also kind enough to indulge me in brief, pleasant conversation this afternoon,” Tywin interjected. 

“About what?” Jaime snapped, his suppressed rage barely under control. 

“If you have to ask, perhaps I did not insist on enough schooling for you when you were young.” 

“I made exactly one request of you as regards my marriage and yet you remain incapable of leaving anything which you desire to intervene upon alone.” 

“I am not incapable, there was simply no benefit. You were already carrying out the threat that was to stop me intervening. You left yourself nothing to bargain with.” 

“Has it ever occurred to you that perhaps your children’s lives are not game pieces to be strategized out like a fucking military exercise?” 

“Has it ever occurred to you that were you more responsible with your family obligations, I would not feel the inclination to intervene as much I do? Do you really think I wanted to make the journey out here with the entire royal party? To call it an inconvenience is a radical understatement, yet you left me no choice.” 

“You have always had a choice in how you have treated us. At least have the decency to own up to it. Not ten minutes ago you were sitting here making demands of the King himself, so do not sit there now and tell me you didn’t have a choice about something. This whole goddamn country lives and dies by your choices and you know it!” 

Jaime theatrically pushed his chair away from the table, rose, and left the dining room in a fury. Brienne sat in stunned silence for half a moment longer before rising to follow him. She did not bother to acknowledge either of her still-seated in-laws on the way out.


End file.
